almost Spring
the paperbark
beginning to strip
Nathalie Buckland
autumn chill
the smell of wood ash
from a ring of stones
Nathalie Buckland
smell of wet earth
beneath the liquidambar
a bright carpet
Nathalie Buckland
scent from
the orchid’s hidden flower . . .
my garden’s gift
Nathalie Buckland
grandchild’s birthday
the dress I gave her
outgrown
Nathalie Buckland
out of hospital—
my first steps
into sunshine
Nathalie Buckland
Echidna Tracks 