Wounds

When I lift my feet to place them on top of the coffee table,

Something in the back of my calf screams - ouch!

And when I flex my foot, my blackening toe-nail throbs,

deep and dark.

Wounds - that’s what you get when you put your body and spirit in harm’s way.

Pieces begin to break down, wither.

Break off, seize up, atrophy.

And in a storm, total collapse.

Outside my window

an old Sycamore tree is losing leaves.

Not fast, just a slow shrinking and wrinkling.

If a strong wind comes this way,

Leaves will fall.

But on this quiet afternoon,

There is a moment when everything stays the same,

And the devastation to come is hidden.

Melbourne – April 2023