warm, warmer, whipped

The other day, we had afternoon tea with friends. Around us, a tall eucalyptus, weekend wind, flowering potato, and in the center: a pear tree, laden. Their hens brought forth eggs during our time together. I held them in my hand.
Warm, warmer. 
Photo: An omelette for two, with five fresh eggs, whipped

blue stars

... And stars hang like pretty teenagers
waiting for their chance
Photo: Hydrangea, The Wairarapa, New Zealand
Text: excerpt of my poem 'The Great Rann'

burnt orange

The worn orange
of amber fire
autumn ground
late dusk haystacks
happens
when the shock of red
is shed to collect
a little sallow
yellow
and some sorrow of brown
Photo: Evening wall, Vientiane, Laos
Text: excerpt from my poem 'burnt orange'

hair and memory

I have always liked strumming the hair on a man's arm.
I remember pulling at my grandfather's hair, line after line. Lightly. Here they are again.
Photo: The back of a sunflower, Greytown, New Zealand

cow times three

The first time I was close to a cow was in Vietnam, here it is, tied up on the side of the road. Then, in Gujarat, India, when I was documenting the major earthquake of 2001, city cows slept among fallen buildings. Now, in The Wairarapa of New Zealand, I like to see into the large eyes of two cows, mother and son, who live within yards of the house, a fence of four thousand volts between us.
Photo: Hanoi, Vietnam

motherlove

When I went to the hot springs with my mother,
some people thought she was the daughter.
Photo: My mother and friend, near Takayama, Japan

I call myself tree

I call myself 'tree' sometimes. Wanting to be as
strong, graceful, responsive. As giving and receiving.
Photo: Niagara Falls, Canadian side

sifting

Cloud and sea, sifting.
Photo: Aran Islands, Ireland

fly, fly

Last night, we looked at fields of stars from our field of grass. Two satellites were seen. One shooting star. New wind after a hot, still day. And the sprinklers ran overnight on the neighbouring pastures.
Photo: Sculpture at entrance of a swimming pool, China

lasso

Maybe every writer has a lasso.

To loop, word after certain word.

Photo: Road post, Los Angeles (where I began as a writer)

chocolate cosmos

I have been gardening lately. Pulling up weeds. Watering. 
Dirty knees. Order. Wonder. We have poppy, rose,
dahlia, green onion, tomato, cauliflower, radish, blackberry, lemon, lime, tangerine, flax, a long native grass...
In another garden I know, a browny-red flower smells like chocolate.
Photo: Chocolate Cosmos and poppy in a friend's garden, London

new year for the moon

Today, a new year for the moon.
For the rabbit there, too.
For all.
Photo: A new hotel, Yunnan, China

if you should bow

Whaia e koe te iti kahurangi ki te tuoho koe -- me maunga teitei / Seek the treasures of your heart. If you should bow your head, let it be to a lofty mountain.
Photo: Looking through glass, Tai Tsang Uk, Hong Kong
Text: A motto of a school group in Masterton, New Zealand

what would you write?

What would you write on that black board?

Photo: Bus stop, Lyon, France