seventeen wye river haiku philip harvey wrote in june 2014
black pink rose grey sunrise reveals for
sale signs, empty caravan parks
wake from city corridor lost script dreams
to ocean house open books
melbourne recedes to french parades, english
façades, american skyline
sourdough is warm, coffee good as we
windowgaze the cold grey sea
where did such great waters rise, from earth
or sky, that seethe and surge and swell
a log, a seal, it’s winter surfer leaping
tall waves in single bounds
white heron stands waiting for river fish to
swim through its reflection
solstice high tide leaves twigs kelp bubbles
in lines feathers along sand grass
fresh rock alone fallen in high winds down
cliff for cars to swerve round, brown
quiet hotel soul music as red ball thumps
into corner pocket
bridie on wye: a good thing is when you wave
at a car, they wave back
silent deckchairs sit one on top of the
other looking out to sea
at grey horizon’s long end of cloud mist
waves showers shade: a rainbow
green tops of eucalypts reflect in rainwater
on sunlit decking
containers with all latest software hardware
steer clear of shipwreck coast
emma thompson starts stops her lines on
scratchy dvd, starts again
under doonas after goodnights lightsout, the
heavenly sound of rain
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