wytchcroft

Oh this would be a painter's delight
strolling through impressionist light
millais and manet and (whoever) would
fight for the sight of these delicate lilies, the reeds and grasses
the water and its hazy movement

and the flowers! Seems like a million petals exploded
wild splatter patterns spiral novae of red, white and gold

a natural synaesthesia
as the breeze shakes the bell tops in the bushes

do not for one instant think
I am ungrateful for the privilege

74 bridges

and even the most accessible paths reveal secrets
culverts of insects flickering over the dappled water
the dancing light

thick trees
stilled in the sudden quiet

and the track beyond
past abandoned buildings, out houses
farm sheds, rusted containers
broken implements

pieces of wall
faded murals
graffiti so old it might just be mine

74 bridges

and countless ghosts
this is the place where lean feathered poets came
to crow
and red headed wastrels got soused and doused their pens in the water and
slipped on the rocks

the history here so well recorded
of course there was darkness

but not today

the colours leap and the flowers parade
and cats lean on fence posts
lazy eyed.