Poetry

Mt Ainslie Dreaming

The air is warm and blue the sky. Black Admirals come teasing by, the millefiori of our slope now upbeat as a horoscope. Where capeweed crimples yellow crêpe, a kookaburra’s going ape. Yes skies are warm, and air is free. Do admirals have eyes for me? Black Admirals are seasoned flirts. and flutter strumpet Tudor skirts, perform athletic genuflections while sizing up their royal connections, as wild upon the hillside grow ten thousand species in-the-know, that let the infiltrating sun locate the inmost of each one, like Austral bluebells on their stems pursuing level stratagems to catch upon their stellar…

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