gurgling . . .
a creek washes the rock
over and over
global warming
the seal’s voice also lost
at sea
PTSD . . .
this one daisy
the world
pipe puffs;
an old man adds
to the storm
snowflakes
the slow meandering
of my thoughts
sunlit morning
the voice of spring
in the waterfall
with each throw
the boy’s stone lands
at the centre of the universe
blue hour
an old sheep track
winds into knapweed
rain-thick air
a radio hums
from the lambing shed
slow afternoon
the foal’s nostrils
widen in the breeze