Thursday, March 10, 2011

March Past

A muted Autumn in the Domain, Sydney.


And so the world turns, yet, every year, the turning still astounds us,
As we compare our seasons and the weather that surrounds us.
So here is March and here we feel the bite has left the sun;
Day after day of 'English Summer' refreshes everyone.
While 'you' have shivered in the snow, we've broiled in summer heat,
And the gentleness of early Autumn's deliriously sweet.
The sun still glows, but later, and with a gentler light,
And everyone remarks on how they're sleeping cool at night.
In New South Wales, where I live, the trees are always green,
So our Autumn isn't brilliant, for few russet trees are seen.
This is my homesick time of year when I long for years gone by
When March meant sunny daffodils beneath a blustery sky.

A riot of Spring in London

And so the world turns every year, all the world is synchronised.
Yet every year we're comparing notes, and acting all surprised!




No pen or pencil
Could better stencil
The patterns on the bark.
Each leaf outlining,
Against the shining,
In a perfect leaf-like mark.

      Yesterday we celebrated two birthdays. We met at Bev's house, all taking something to eat.

We sat in the garden for a whle, eating savouries and drinking wine.

Then we adjourned into the house for the birthday cakes. Second Childhood is pretty good.

1 comment:

Debra Gray-Elliott said...

Hi Brenda,
Stopping by from Poetic Asides. I really enjoyed your poetry. Great blog and I am now following.