by WAYNE POLLARD
A soft moment drips into a transforming mind.
A frog, hope for a future, croaks beside a waterway contaminated by too many greedy acts.
Gum leaves rest softly on tufts of kangaroo grass awaiting a ride on a gentle breeze, to play the next part in the richness of nature’s theatre.
The sun, a bearer of gifts, floats gently across a sky blued by osmosis.
Love dances across the rows of four legged flowers.
Watering cans tap dance for lovers to come.
For children of god, life folds out gently like a tissue in a gentle breeze. Rucksacks full of moonbeams wait by a barbed wire fence that is woven from wool cloned by the light rays from Jupiter.
Moonbeams shine out from rucksacks giving treasures of light to show the soul and its virtues as a star rushes to shine its comforting sparkle over a landscape confused by a tractor.
Neon lights shine back, defining a new sense of what is now.
Books tired of meaning are read long into the night.
Coffee soaks my lips and thoughts of modernity try to flower in ancient soils of what is.
Here becomes now? A traffic light turns around to look at ducks crossing a lake of crimson jelly — fruit bats glide through the mind of ancient serpents while an apple rotten lies at the base of the tree of knowledge.