Twelve roses bob by the harbour wall, Still bunched, red as blood in the swell. A gift. Emotion made real Heaving, falling, drowning,...

Into the Wonnangatta - Halloween 2019 Grey sky above snow grass plain. Muggy wind Blows across endless trees, stretching horizons. Jinxed...

She used to write verse once, my mother. Then she aged; her memory faded. I give her the poems I’ve typed ‘You wrote them,’ I tell her....

She used to write poetry, my mother. Then she aged; her memory faded ...