radio christmas

the old songs
trickle gently
into the morning's quiet

upon returning home from the library

unicorn satchel stuffed with bliss
she pauses on the stairs
"can i eat my dinner up here?"

"while you're waiting"

the magic-keeper laughs from the tree-top
her shy smile of thanks
as she hands me my salvation

red light -- Brant and James

ivy and sunlight on red brick
sunday morning dads
push designer strollers to Starbucks

3 am

the moon tugs me to the edge of waking
she whispers a poem
then lets me doze again

friday morning

snow-dusted lemon balm
frost-tipped pine
and ice-lace puddle edges

breakfast

sparrows gather
jostling for a crumb
of the squirrel's cupcake

slave to fashion

boy tries to run for the bus
it's a mincing crab-wise shuffle
hobbled, as he is, by his own trousers

dismissal

i can pick her out
from the sea of bobbing backpacks
her maroon hat and the way she walks

brant street -- 3:40pm

rainbow puddles on hissing tarmac
people hunch and scurry
protecting curls and cashmere coats

the nannas

hot, sweet, tea and sausage rolls
silver-dusted metal
wine and twinkling lights

7:20am

incense and green tea
hum of the fish tank
scritch of pen on paper

8:40am

the magic-keeper perches on the swing set
wet wool against my cheek
we hug in the emptying playground

time warp

dude volumizes his 'fro
a grey, plastic pick
stuck in the back like a feather