1850 - Outside—Inside—My Side—Your Side

 

Outside—Inside—My Side—Your Side

Bird calls, unfamiliar to me—

Red-browed finches? Maybe.

Magpies, not chortling, clearing throats.

Crows, rooks—harsh, abrasive.

A passing commuter train,

Full of people going somewhere.

A boy waves from the overpass;

The train blows its whistle—a simple kindness.

Cars pass. People on urgent missions.

Spring is alive in the garden:

Wattles burst yellow, finches forage.

A pink-blossomed tree—a peach, I’m told.

Sunlight pours into the room.

I sit, pillow supported, coffee in hand,

Watching, listening, marvelling.

Grieg plays—Peer Gynt, Morning.

A faint smell of wash and wear paint,

New carpets, too.

Over me, a blue mohair blanket—

Cobalt and ultramarine—left just for me.

Onkaparinga, a name from the past.

"Empress Mohair", left by a Queen.

I feel warm, cocooned.

I reach out to her side of the bed—

It’s cold.

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