| Into Horizons Stand son on your skateboard jumping, clunking, gyrating dare the wind to thrill against your face scud down over the hill. You will fall off panting energy drags hold back till the breeze invites you to skate tag. One foot runs then coupled feet survive sentry on your board onto the ramp, smith grind kick flip the trite storm into your horizons unwind. Son when your life stretches into manhood recall youth’s rehearsal salvage your skateboard to veer over the asphalt of your fear. Cretan Pot Hands of the clock swing five and twelve a mechanical shift plants counted from trolley to car. Hazed afternoon reflects the heat from concrete car park shooting up fumes from a five o'clock rush. Abandoned under an umbrellaed plane tree Cretan pot and I watch the trunk measuring groundwards - bark clasps like a skin graft. We sit listening for our familiar rumble of car wheels. Instead the whiz of sprinklers runs soft to the ears. Spidered swirl of spray floats downward water drops pearls onto soldiered ficus with cone hats reaching towards azure sky. Rumble snaps afternoon harmonizing. Cretan pot and I tumble into the van and the engine ghosts out a gentle breeze. Christine Watt © Copyright 2001 - Christine is a regular at 'Poet-tree' and has her poems published in the Australian Writers Journal, Reader's World, MicroPress Oz and in an Anthology called "Winter Warmers." |
Christine Watt Into Horizons Cretan Pot |
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