The cup of the moon
flowers yellow in the night,
is big round and clear
next to a swarm of small stars
that withers in the morning.
*
Pink rose cup opens
on this clear winter morning
as a butterfly
that flutters at the garden gate
drawing the postman’s brown eyes.
*
Ibises scream screeching
when the small dog chase them up
as if they curse it,
while blue doves peep from green branches
as if they see something odd.
*
Purple jacarandas
in the soft drizzle hang full of
fragrant shining drops
until a quick shower falls down
washing pretty flowers off.
*
When a grey bush shrike
greets the morning joyfully
we are drinking tea
around the old kitchen table
and that bird sounds next to us.
*
The scent of wet sand
rise in my nose with the rain
that which stays behind -
the smell of nature still hangs
in the big old large white house.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem