Tui

Blue and green iridescence
shimmer off the tui’s dark
feathers in the morning sun,
the little love knot of curling
white feathers at his throat
completes his sartorial elegance,
a simple fashion statement
for the autocratic parson bird.

From the kowhai tree’s summit
ablaze with golden flowers
his raucous shrieks warn
lowly blackbirds and thrushes
to vacate his territory.
His swooping attacks spur
them to flee – his sharp
nectar sucking beak pecks
vicious wounds in birds
unwise enough to stay.

One little tui he allows to
remain. Her feathers too have
the shimmering iridescence, the
little white love knot at her
throat. Now the regal tui
sings to her a love song of
purest warbling notes, clear high
trilling in a liquid flow that
fills the suburban garden. She
flits through the branches of
his tree, enjoying golden kowhai
nectar under his protective eye
in the glowing morning sunlight.


Previously posted August 2016.

Green Finches Crimson Bottlebrush

Watching the supple bottlebrush
stems with their crimson flowers
swirl wildly outside the living
room window, swishing, flicking,
swaying on a windless day, I
puzzle at the frenetic movements
of these stems clad densely in sleeves
of single hard sharp leaves.

Two green finches, matching
the spiky green foliage flit
into view, grasp the stems
beside the crimson flowers so
loaded with the nectar they love.
They grip tightly as they feast
then hanging upside down to
gorge on the flower below. They
chirp shrilly to each other in
the excitement of exploring the
bush for its food, climbing from
stem to stem, bloom to bloom,
bringing the bush alive as
they devour its bounty.


Previously posted August 2016.

No Man’s Land

In the sodden mud
of no man’s land
a man is lashed to
a six foot post driven
deep into the soil.
Rope binds his knees
and ankles to the post,
manacles grip his wrists
back behind the post,
his head and shoulders
brace back against it.

Modern day crucifixion.

Field punishment number one.

Acrid smoke of
artillery fire drifts
beneath lowering clouds,
sniper shots ring out
a bag of flesh
and bones sags

drunkenly

sideways

downwards

lifeless.


In World War I conscientious objectors,
deserters, late returners from leave were
taken to the western front and roped to
posts for up to four hours at a time.



Previously posted August 2016.

Winter Morning

From softly brushed
dabs of grey and white
tinting the sky:
from soft water colours
stippling the northern
horizon in dove greys;
from darker purple grey
on the southern horizon
draping its hills with
wisps of cobweb mist;

A dull luminosity spills
over green playing fields
and carparks edged by
stark willows shedding
their last leaves on to
the puddles. Blackbirds,
thrushes call out their
territorial cries in
piercing shrilling voices
over the distant thrum
of main road traffic.


Previously posted July 2016.

Rain

Lying warmly snug
under the thick duvet
in curtained darkness
faintly lit by sheets
of orange light at the end
of the driveway,
a rattle of pellets
against the windows
lifts me part way
from the depths of sleep.

Gusts of wind batter
windows, fence, driveway
with icy bullets then
ease off. Yet rain still
gurgles along gutters,
down drain pipes, the
sound of rushing water
from the skies drowned
out again by roaring
gusty winds. Registering
at last the causes
of this cacophony
I sink down again
into warm dark depths
of consciousness.

Brown land is
greening at last !

Relief !


Previously posted July 2016.

Cold

Carried along by
currents of change
in work, relationships,
I found myself living
far from my familiar
climes where we switched
off heating at bedtime,
never used central heating.

The mountains nearby
made a pleasant scenic
route to work in the
next town. But scenic
snow made the winter
air so icy.

I coughed so much
a senior colleague
lectured me on doctors
and prescriptions.
I crossed a new frontier
warming my bedroom
nightly with a heater.

Final acclimatisation came
when I bought another car
with new lights and
gadgets on its dashboard.
Each winter morning
I drove to work with
heater purring and
freezing temperature
digits brightly glowing.

Now I shivered
with icy cold
in my new car.


Previously posted July 2016.

Goodbye Ephraim

The old grey cat spent his days
drowsing tranquilly n the bed
of the first child who was gentle
with him from the day he was first
put on her lap and her little hand
stroked him from head to tail.
The second child patted him hard,
rubbed his fur roughly.
Ephraim would slink outside.
He would sit with the woman
in the garden as she
weeded planted pruned.

One day sharp pains invaded his gut
the vet said they could only ease them.
Ephraim went to sunbathe on the roof
but could not climb back down.
His cries of pain brought the
woman up the ladder to his rescue.
Now he stayed on the first child’s
bed, only sometimes going outside.

Early one Sunday, opening one eye,
he saw no readying for work
or kindergarten that day.
He slipped into sleep, the deepest sleep,
and they left him on the first child’s
bed for final tearful goodbyes.

Later that day the man dug a grave
between clumps of blue grass
in the garden. They covered Ephraim
with soil, flowers, farewells.

For several days the children placed
flowers on the little grave, finally
seeing Ephraim was resting for ever.


Previously posted July 2016.

At The Meat Chiller

On a busy morning at the
supermarket meat chiller
I studied shelves of
sausages chops mince
and shin meat on the bone.
I tried to slide right to
see chicken packs, lamb
knuckles, corned beef brisket
but the person to my right
simply would not move.
I sidestepped along slightly
but still they did not move.

I turned to say “excuse me”
and found myself facing my
reflection in the mirror
on the end section wall.


Previously posted June 2016.

Pensioner Payday

Every second Tuesday morning
on pensioner payday the
oldies fill the supermarket
aisles as they stock up for
the next fortnight. They stop
and stare at shelves of
biscuit packets, cereal boxes,
packs of mince and sausages.
Mobile pensioners ease their
trolleys around the less mobile
as trolley jams cause hiccups
in thee traffic flow along
the crowded aisles. Soap
powder shelves are blockaded
fruit tin pyramids besieged,
chicken shelves at the meat
freezers are surrounded
by tightly packed trolleys.

At last the wheeled tide
reaches the checkouts barrier
flowing slowly past the tills
paying for carrots and potatoes
bread and margarine.

Out on the forecourt two rows
of mobility scooters line up
nose to nose awaiting their riders
with their tightly packed bags.
Walkers with bulging bags
attached moved steadily away.
We younger ones with our trundlers
step briskly along the footpath
and nifty little pensioner cars
tootle briskly down the road.


Previously posted June 2016.