the future?

the future?

for Dimity

.

.

I’m making friends

with the weeds

I spy you hiding, Billy goat weed

in your tomato suit

.

Dead heads snapped at the neck

and piled in a heap

lantana heading upwards

over the top of the shed

.

Green chickweed

colonizing the rose garden

with the wandering dew

and the Singapore daisy

.

I hear dandelions are tasty

roasted root as coffee

leaves tender

flowers in salads

.

If I were a weed

I would choose to be

a cobblers peg

friendly, transportable, adaptable

.

Farmers friends

sticky beaks

effective, efficient, annoying

everywhere

.

love the weeds

for they may be our future

as the golf courses dry up

and the wells run dry

.

Sticky beak salads

may be the next gourmet item

and the best harvests may be coming from

in between the rows

.

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the visitor

The oxygen left the room

.

as I breathed salt water

floating seamlessly

between two universes

feeling the weight and magnitude

.

of the white puff

of a dandelion seed

.

I watched, pinned, floating

as it swirled in through the front door

lingering, laughing, carousing

it stayed

forever and no time at all

.

it hung there, hesitating

before it flew

.

like a Black Cockatoo call

out the back door

and into the universe once more

leaving me with

gravity returning to my limbs

heavy as lead

reed avocado

reed avocado

reed avocado

pumpkins

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