IT IS STILL A BIRD’S PICNIC!
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| THE OCEAN TRIFECTA ~ ONE CHOIR LINES UP π¦⬛π¦⬛π¦⬛ πΆ By Tony Searl “Away from the House” My back yard footprints skip hop jump past azaleas and macadamia’s Cactus stalks and rustling alive blue tongued leaves into deep eucalyptus green. The steps belong to an urban oasis, bits and pieces of me left in them returning richly to mulch A warm composting soil, A cool shaded towering tree, A paling fence, a football opera, the way my sparkling bottle reflects on our rolling Wanda beach. My body my soul my heart loses itself in grains of grassy Fresh cut simple sand. My body is this back yard, My Operatic house, collapsing, colliding summer cicadas Colluding into shifting Melodies of eternal seasons. I am following my own footprints, intent as a Pepi hound Loyal By my side, moving, moving, stealth, away from the house. Towards this daily bliss.
From cicada Summer 1969. |
