Windy Fonts, Four
Easterly
Horses stand
rumps into the rush,
ears stilled
backwards faces out.
Drapes billow
sailing out to the veranda
flapping a course
cats run beneath,
papers whoosh
across the room
fly screens
spinnaker before crashing down,
fridge notes
decamp in a flurry
doors bang a
chorus of scatter gun timing,
long hinge
windows strain on returns
the war ration
glass skinnies its cheeks,
bees are
trumpeting the yellow gum blossom
leaves scamper
from the rowdy Sunday fronds.
I can hear this poem rattling and I love the line 'fly screens spinnaker before crashing down'. Just right.
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