New Year’s Eve —
rubbing velvet
the wrong way

winter moon
a smudged fingerprint
on the inkstone

white dawn . . .
the calf’s breath
on the udder

magpie nestlings —
redgum widow-makers
creak in the wind

gray skies —
a kestrel
cries its kill

fireside
a piece of jigsaw
slips into place

waking beside you
the room glows
with snowlight

April sleet
oatmeal sticks
to the pot

light rain —
the open beak
of the bird

whistling back to them
I can’t find the right key. . .
tree frogs