Canadian Maple


First leaf fall from the sapling

in the home paddock. Rough

and taste-tested by someone 

at some time during the season.


One edge jagged and true to the flag

of its ancestral home. The other dulled,

a flattened curve on a graph, indicating

success or the ravages of drought.


Such wilful slender to go out blazing,

imperfect. Our Antipodean home

more remote in the autumn of pandemic,

our tenuous hold more fragile than ever.

While Spring is beginning to yield to summer here in the Antipodes, I am thinking of friends in the Northern hemisphere with gratitude and love.

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