The heady smell of garden hose spray,
of wattle pollen up your nose like snuff.
The spider outside with her fat, spangled
abdomen, swinging in a leaf hammock
in our garden, full of white caviar.
Gum bark clinging grey, hanging on like
a last hope.
Cries from the district swimming pool,
a distant screen door and a shout,
sounds of heedless youth.
Though I have not forgotten the breeze
that fluttered your dress, flustered,
flattered you that summer day.
We eat outside and open doors
for the warm, welcome air.
Closer to nature.
Too close to nature?
A too friendly magpie flies around our
front room. Visions of blood
and feathers on a mirror.
But it finds its way outside.
We all want to escape the parlour.

Julian O’Dea

7 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by fuzziewuzziebear on October 27, 2019 at 6:18 am

    I am glad for you. You waited long enough for it. Here, the leaves are turning late this year and it will be here soon enough.
    While I search for a beautiful French brunette, how about a Hollywood classic?


    • Posted by Julian O'Dea on October 27, 2019 at 6:48 am

      Wonderful scene.


      • Posted by fuzziewuzziebear on October 27, 2019 at 7:44 am

        The whole movie is wonderful and that it went together as it did was pure good fortune. I do remember hearing from someone who was young in 1942 that, while you may not marry the girl you saw the movie with, you never forget her.

  2. Posted by fuzziewuzziebear on October 28, 2019 at 7:23 pm

    I found one! This is the first that I have seen of her. If she has done something terrible, I am not aware of it.

    Good looking French brunettes with short hair are getting thin on the ground. What’s up with that?


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