June Walker Poems

A flash of red and black
lands on ridged bark,
finds an open vein of golden sap.
Gathering wasps, hornets, bees, and blowflies,
...

A song thrush rubs her chest into dry dust.
Her beak opens - fledgling begging;
her tongue, a sharp thorn.
A white film covers her closed eyes.
...

Mid March.
Spring has not yet arrived.
Daffodils are a promise,
but at least show spindly stalks
...

In the grotto, ghostly stalactites
and stalagmites, like termite mounds,
line the narrow pathway,
opening onto an underground cavern
...

I bought a small ivy plant
and dug it into unpromising soil
above the concrete retaining wall.
It grew like fever-
...

Sycamore seeds put pin prick roots
Into soft earth to suck up minerals,
Like rows of butterflies
Sucking salt from the sand,
...

A lemon yellow dart
lands. A spot of sunlight
on a dark green thorny runway.
Soaks in a moment of calm
...

Violets shelter amongst the roots,
dry leaves for a blanket,
a dash of purple and green amongst the brown.
Quiet and unassuming,
...

There are few butterflies
in the city- a couple of cabbage whites,
a tortoiseshell, and, if you are lucky,
a peacock butterfly with eyes that seem
...

All through the ocean deeps he wails;
a-crying on the foam.
He weeps and wails, and weeps and moans,
‘Come home, my love, come home.'
...