Housesitting
I step outside barefoot.
Before sunrise.
The grass is wet from the night,
cool blades pressing my skin
I breath deeper.
Tomorrow I'm back home
to thirty square metres.
no grass.
I close my eyes.
The smell, sharp,
cut grass,
pulls me back
to childhood lawns,
full of bindeyes,
before fences.
I walk slowly
counting every step
toward the lake.
The sun shows off.
A baby kookaburra
practices laughing.
I stay.
I think you need to number your post : ) I left a gap for you.
ReplyDeleteI love your poem, contrasting the bleak with the expansive.
"A baby kookaburra/ practices laughing" is beautiful on multiple levels. *happy sigh"
Thank you :)
ReplyDeleteThank you for such a beautiful invitation and the reminder of how nature can remind us of childhood, its innocence and freedoms.
ReplyDelete