After rain I'd rove barefoot
where water trickled over stones
and droplets glistened in the lace of weeds
and spangled spiderwebs.
Each pebble glowed with richer
tint and grain and hue beneath grey skies,
the filtered light made every
blade of grass shine clean as polished glass.
Black cockatoos would screech
across clouds' brooding brows and countenance
that shaded mountains' khaki foliage
violet indigo and blue,
while I would gaze in wonder
at the world's features made fresh and new,
a footloose child with hungry eyes -
inhaling ozone and the road,
the tang when dust is slaked by rain,
the pungent scent of eucalypts;
observing patterns in wet bark,
the necklace on a barbed-wire fence -
and sense the world gaze back at me,
secretly amused…
After rain
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2005
Свидетельство о публикации №105112701007
Свидетельство о публикации №105112701007
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