14 November 2014


Six o’clock Sunday morning, good morning.  Your kisses,
A cup of coffee, intimate phrases, bright day!  Outside beckons
The warmth of southern March.  Hurry, dress, and we will
Take the rocky path, we’ll march away, away toward the grey slab
Of cloud capped mountain, a stone sentinel it is, appearing into
Windowed view as morning’s promise shakes off our dizzied sleep.

Come in the kitchen where, no, please me, don’t go back to sleep,
Newborn sunlight is rushing through glass stained with canine kisses.
Wait for breakfast; ask the dog about the latest mess he’s into:
Dug up the garden, but hydrangeas and roses don’t mind, their bud beckons
Another cycle of bloom.  Yes, beautiful our garden! Cheese with your slab
Of bread? Sunlight warms the planks beneath our bare feet, and yes, we will   

Sit on dew drenched grass to lace our walking boots.  We will
Go. How perfect the fit of my hand in yours!  The hushed silence of sleep
Cloaks each house we pass, this hour belongs not to humankind.  That slab
Of gabled roof gives ample proof: there winged creatures gather in a chorus, kisses
To them are not as sweet as song.  Hear morning’s birdsong!  An avian aria beckons
At each turn: bellbird, grey warbler and fantail bel canto, nature’s madrigal.  Into

Tall evergreen soloists fly, hide and watch us passing by, we tramp the valley into
The wood to go.  And as we climb we leave the lowland green behind, hide we too will
From the world.  I follow you meander ‘round red and silver beech, your smile beckons
I keep in step.  Overhead the canopy carves light and shadow patterns, sleep
World, away world, says the wind and I intone in kind.  Soft mist softly kisses
Our flesh; vapor drifts on fern, and moss, and pendulous leaf, covers a rock slab     
With drops that look like tears, yes we both cry, this forest and I.  Rest upon a slab
Of broad cool stone, ask me beside you: I’ll read the riddles of your face, peer into
The luminous brown of your eyes. I have espoused the pain of sharing you, take kisses
Left discarded when you away another one’s embrace.  Seduced, I will  
Give.  I need the boundless joy of being near you.  My love won't sleep:     
It waits for you, it hopes for you, longs for you.  It beckons 

And endures as a beaten mountain endures assault.  It beckons 
You in dulcet honeyed hues: sigh it’s me you want it asks.  Near a slab
Of lichen covered rock nest a pair of wattle birds.  They sing and sleep
Unaware their ancient species is nigh extinct.  Their duet ascends into 
The air. Sing away the future loving birds.  Sing.  Soon, we two will         
For home, where waits the world, and wait, like songs caressing lips, kisses.

When at night sleep beckons we’ll entwine each other’s limbs into
Wreaths of our flesh.  In and out and around each other, sweetly we will.
Was the roving real I’ll wonder, or a slab of daydreamed thoughts and kisses?