Canberra Morning

0
317

Morning: such long shadows
like low-bellied cats
creep under parked cars
and out again, stealthily
flattening the grasses.

At the bus-stop
a flock of starlings:
school-children, chatterers,
swinging haversacks,
pulling ribbons.

The driver’s got a book by
Sartre in his pocket.
He wears dark glasses,
listens moodily
to the Top Forty.

Life gets better
as I grow older
not giving a damn
and looking slantwise
at everyone’s morning.

5/5 - (1 vote)
Previous articleThe Rape of Europa
Next articleAt Carcoar

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here