Lean over,
in the darkest pools
you’ll find me,
reflected in yours.
In response to Ragtag Daily Prompt – Saturday – Identical
Category: poetry
Last night …
The Yearning
Adrift
Knots unraveled,
untethered,
no longer one
with sea.
a dawn bird
In response to Pic and a Word Challenge #184: dis-connect
A mother’s dream …
Layla, sculpture by Russell Sheridan, Prevelly, Margaret River region, Western Australia
Babe at breast
I dream,
of who you will be.
a dawn bird
In response to Word of the Day Challenge: Longing
The Pause
She wrote a book on love
with words scribbled in stars
then paused, to place a solitary comma
amid the beautiful drama.
In response to Word of the Day Challenge: Moon
The Compromise
Back Beach, Bunbury, Western Australia
Caught between sky and sea
a sequin trades its beauty
with seagulls swooping low
drenched in sunmoon glow
over seacity that stirs
to waves soaping her curves
sensuously.
a dawn bird
In response to RDP – Thursday Compromise
Nature, like love
Sunrise, Esperance Bay, Western Australia
Nature has no walls
no roof, no fence line, nor gate
no grout, holding together
the colours that accentuate
Nature paints boldly
and never in black and white
Nature fills in spaces, taking risks
like love
in pink and blue
and sometimes grey, for contrast
a dawn bird
In response to Pic and a Word Challenge: Risk #183
In the aftermath …
A life
like a heartbeat, or a pulse
gathers momentum
crosses the line
that no longer divides
undeterred
the power
that unstoppable equalizer
flattens without discrimination
leaving an indelible mark
And, in the aftermath
a message, recycled
what does not kill
makes you stronger,
With love
Cyclone Michael
a dawn bird
In response to Ragtag Daily Prompt: cyclone
The night surfers
The mood yields
day to night
The shift
As old as time
perspicacious
they take it slow
seek and find the wave
to ride in to shore
as one.
a dawn bird
In response to Ragtag Daily Prompt: perspicacious
The Shared Space
The perfumed nightly ritual
on cinnamon limbs
remained in the morning air
ylang ylang, bergamot, patchouli
geranium, rose, citrus, too
like music, they were notes, she once said
he was still learning them
when she left too soon, again
in her absence, they flooded his senses
and from the cacophony
he smiled at the dissonance
that resounds when different worlds collide
so he lay there a moment longer
where she had once been with him.
a dawn bird
Before they met …
She was seated across the Friday din
watched him take a thirsty swig
coiled around the stubbie
his fingers, lean and slim
the stubborn red dirt
tattooed under nails,
with surgical precision
His shoulders broad,
with a hint of casualness
two buttons undone at chest
sleeves rolled up, uneven
blue green veins mapped on skin
He caught her glance
balanced it
until the fuse was lit
then he scanned into memory
a treasure chest, to be raided privately
the miscellany, the incongruity of her presence
seated silently, ignoring all
He observed her intermittently
as fingers skimmed keys like a breeze
he took it all in
there was nothing to misread
no gold, no diamonds,
just a single pearl clasped in silver,
in the hollow of her neck
like a third eye, it signalled
for her, there was no one else there, but him
a dawn bird
The Return
In the divide he walked alone,
where breakers meet
coasting,
for now his steps were slow
in the ebb and flow, a rhythm
as familiar as sea to shore
and in the air, the taste of her
so he returned once more.
a dawn bird
In response to Ragtag Daily Prompt Saturday: Coast
A grounded ‘bird’
I woke at 5 am
sat through a storm
watching lightening scrawl the walls
spotlighting dark recesses
the traffic of thoughts,
at times, gridlocked
was louder than the thunder
vibrating along solid foundation
I thought I saw rain, maybe felt it too
but I was still inside
contained,
within a safe cocoon
I watched it trickle down the window pane
once removed
the beat was a rhythm
not upbeat, not even vaguely familiar
and I knew
there was no dance left in me
the dawn, was stronger than the storm
it broke through the muscled clouds
from the silence
I heard the familiar winged flight of waterbirds,
smaller birds, too
Oriented to home
I walked in a garden, freshened by rain
saw a feather and from the quill,
a message for me
birds rest in the darkest hour of the night
and at first light, may shed what they don’t need
to make the launch lighter
but despite the discard,
their wings are still wings
so they fly the charted course
the last stretch
in a flock, a pair, or alone
as nature intended.
a dawn bird
The Joke’s On Me
I etched in sand with mother of pearl
and tethered it to my heart
it remained where I left it
by the edge of the sea
the winds blew over it
and the high tide didn’t reach
I woke this morning to the realisation
like a fool I left no message
just my heart
on a distant beach.
a dawn bird
A Shared Space 
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