A Bumper Crop

A cool wet summer
expelled our usual drought
to the disgust of those
preferring baking
temperatures, bright blue
skies, blazing sunshine.

Now in icy winter
the neighbours’ mandarin
tree at our fence
surprises us with a
heavy crop of little
juicy orange citrus gems.

It used to sprout these
little fruits randomly under
its leafy canopy. Green leaves
would quiver, flip upside down
as green silvereyes dived into
its orange clusters for a
succulent feast of insects
and irridescent ladybugs.

Now the silvereyes shelter
from icy winds and freezing
rain while we harvest this
bumper crop as best we can.

Previously posted July 2017.

A Bumper Crop

Dimmed Sunshine

Late this winter morning
the sun stands high in a
pale bird’s egg blue sky.
Yet its light from this
unclouded sky shines dimly

like the diminished sunlight
of the summer solstice when
I stood outside at midday
as the moon eclipsed
the fiercely blazing sun.

Today distance dims
the sunlight as the earth
spins through our winter
solstice far from the sun.

Previously posted July 2017

Dimmed Sunshine

Sorry (3)

For two hundred and twenty
years white settlers poured
off their ships, later their planes
on to the continent’s coastal
areas establishing towns trade
businesses industry, white culture
spreading inland to farm crops
livestock around market towns.

For many millennia the continent’s
original inhabitants hunter gatherers
had roamed the continents’s deserts
grasslands, abundant coasts. Now
they faced an alien race
with an alien culture which
deemed them worthless.

So two cultures crossed paths
crossed purposes, the new culture
prevailed. The continent’s original
race went under, struggled then
and now, gradually hauls itself
out of the dark murky morass.

After two hundred and twenty
years the white government
apologised to the brown race
which still has far to go to
rediscover themselves, find
their true identity and culture.

Previously posted July 2017

Sorry (3)