back to homeland
no glimpse of tree, bud or soil    
from her hotel window

Beverley George

palette of blues . . .
hues change with every wave                       
and ebbing ripple

Beverley George

naming stars
only those grandpa taught me   
when I was five or six

Beverley George

black birds thread
through a tree canopy . . .
patching blue sky

Beverley George

kids’ wooden rainbow— 
two lorikeets plummet
to check it out

Beverley George

Beverley George

a

thunderclap
our dog takes his mat
under my bed

a                   

Beverley George

a

Simon Hanson

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