James Walton #130 De Heading the Hydrangeas

Amongst the old

spent heads falling

the colours gone rheumy

bleached bones on the ground

just peaking dawn

air’o mist from the summer night

suddenly next door’s Terriers bark

then quiet as a pricked balloon

in the shade of the strawberry tree

older than our country

the monsteria of politicians’ lips

mouthing over Menindee swollen fish

a detonation for waking

but can I still drive that far.