Poetry

A Love Poem, Bellingen

 (for J.D.) Against the eastern wall of a shed, Of a morning in autumn—nine-ish —Because dew drips from the eaves, And an early frost still starches the ground. In the shaded patches the capeweed’s like doilies. Three children shyly eager from the city, And a poddy calf, like a gift, Its unfamiliar warmth sleek against their bare legs. Each shudder and little stamp of it Sets them ashiver too. —It’s their entrée to the high gust, cloud-tumbling, Wind-silly delight of days ahead, fragrant With promise, the dawn-to-dusk unfettered expanse Of otherness which they’ll remember as their lives harden. They giggle…

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