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Tiring the heart--
mountains and ocean
too much beauty

light rain
oriental poppies
shed their petals
the sun
takes a toll of potted plants
dead lupins
dandelions  -
of suns and moons
the stream
wild geraniums
on the edges of fields

blind wisteria
gropes around the stockade fence
in its reach for sun
dew boiled by sunrise
the warm scent of earth rises
into my nostrils
herbaceous perennials
from a ground level cavern
a cat's tail, twitching
dogs bark
in the night's cool embrace
a distant train
speckle the lawn
the air filled with fairies
fading - the remains
of a rainbow
dawn chorus
morning seeps between the curtains
building site hammers

among the raspberry canes
wild arum
Welsh poppies
stretch yellows heads to the sun
a bed of violets
morning crow
wakes with the first light
plaintive cries
a chill wind
the chatter of schoolchildren
on their way to school
early morning wind
blows the curtains wide
distant dog barks
cherry tree a myriad of water droplets misty rain
chases off sparrows
tree-bark insects
water's surface
scattered with white petals
the last of honesty
despite the blue clouds hover overhead sun-filtered rain

for half an hour
a magpie dismembers
a sparrow

early lilac flowers
against the grey
pounding rain
the scent of Rosemary
and yesterday's grass

A Moth Tanka

Lying beige and still,
Large moth on my porch seemed dead;
(Gone when I returned).
    It had matched the worn wood floor;
    A ghost in my memory.
in the cherry tree
summoning the dawn
two trees
covered in hard green dots
potential cherries
leaf shadows
flutter and dance in the wind
a thrush on the buddleia
morning skies chase away the night crows and blackbirds
pink spirea
against the grey clouds
a flock of swifts
of the funeral
grey clouds
scattered by the cries
of mating crows
shaken by a chill wind
leafy fingers
glitters from garden mobiles
blue sky
apple blossom
pink and white glory
from the cosmic core
this tiny bird chirping
crowds the garden path
chill wind
blows along the street
plastic bag
blue skies
reflected by the ocean
clifftop pines
seagulls cry
the roar of the surf
sounds like traffic