The War Before Springtide

I want to feel alive;

to feel Mother Nature’s

Heart beating in mine

I want time to stop.

I want to hear the sound

Of a bird’s serenade

But all I hear is the click

Of a soldier’s grenade

I want to see branches

Dancing in a cloudless sky

But all I see is military troops

And their missile strikes

I ask myself why the world

Chooses war instead of peace;

A futile commitment

to a heartless regime

I want a song of silence

To engulf us like a wave

I want Mother Nature to

wrap us in her arms and say

That when there are no more

Angels left in heaven

The branches will extend and assume

Their final prayer position

And when there are no more

Earthly wounds left to tend

We’ll gather and wait

For the war before springtide to end

Eucalyptus/Family tree

In the car’s back seat

I crane my eyes up at 

the Eucalyptus 

of Louisville street 


and imagine my parents

sowing a copper-coloured seed,

hopeful and expectant,

as if throwing a coin 

into a wishing well


I called it our “family tree”

and outgrew each ashen branch,

until one day they severed the bark

and I smeared my grief 

in the blood of its silver leaves


Even now, as the years have passed, 

the Eucalyptus remains 

rooted in my mind:

our family’s sacred offering 

to the passage of time.

Covid crows

They’ve been here all year:

a constant omen

in the wake of contagion

Plagued by the heat of a summer morning

I awoke and watched their offspring

gurgle and scream

from the chestnut tree;

abandoned between its branches

Now through winter’s lockdown

I pass them by

as their coal-black, cawing bodies

heave with each cry

and mock my solitary footsteps all the while

Today the guardians of Burgess park

gather ceremoniously

next to a trampled mask

for another socially-distanced murder