R J HAUSER
This morning I dribbled toast crumbs on my feet;
I saw our driveway moping under a moody coat of mould,
while the pock-marked skin of our cul-de-sac needed pothole patching again,
and down on Gibson’s Road some vandal had overturned rubbish bins on the street.
Today two angry dog owners snarled at each other at my coffee stand,
on TV dark flooding rivers were drowning sad towns in the south,
while Putin killed Ukrainians with drone-dropped belts of heat.
The real world seemed to droop in its defeat.
This afternoon offered a different kind of dish;
I saw the orchids in the garden glowing blue and yellow,
and the park trees through my window swayed in harmony with the breeze
and along the riverside at dusk corellas soared in waves like an airborne school of fish.
I watched a chatter-happy family barbecuing prawns and mussels for a meal,
while a young cuddling couple blessed a blanket on the grass
and a woman in brilliant colours passed by looking swish.
A brighter world was burgeoning like a wish.