South wind


Placid summer lingers

languid touch of south wind

brushing the sky with veils of cloud

while the ice grinds in the north

and the dead wait behind the door

in the shade of autumn

listening rapt to the robin’s song

and the last roses falling.


South Wind


Wind from the south
Gusting, scorching
Scratches the blue from the sky
With flails of sand
Whipped from the dunes
Of sun-dazzled deserts.
Carries the flavours
Of pines and perfumes
Piquant and pungent
Of exotic cuisine
And the babble of voices
In a foreign tongue.
A soft sea
Swells in its arms
Warm with the touch of the sun
Rocking with barques
Red and blue
And the brilliant billowing
White of their sails.
Hot wind
Unsettling amid
This northern green
Bending cool trees
Drying and cracking
The dark humid earth
Swirling its sandy skirts
And stirring the past
Deep hidden beneath the roses.
Summer wind
Gusts through the blossom
Red tears falling
On a heart ripped open wide.
Brash sunlight beams
On the windswept memories
Of that last summer
Before you went away.