The man in the moon is smiling at me again;
His full disc face and his icy grin.
A cool mint breeze chicken skins my surface.
Comes deep from the winters lungs with a freezing purpose.
All summer i yearned for the flames of the soul rising fire.
Now my wood is all burn’t, and extinguished all my desire.
My longest days seem to have approached in the shortest one.
If sleep was my steak, it would be well underdone.
Now we have dug our selves to the bottom of winters hole.
At least we are looking up,
with still a long way to go.
© Deon Heemskerk 2013
like sugar on the tasty earth.
The sun or the kookaburra,
which one rose first?
Dancing river sound,
drifts slowly into the morning.
Little blue ren and his groupies,
are hitting the yard and touring.
Moon is hiding his face in shame,
all the things seen during the night.
Casanova growling possum,
his behavior hardly tame.
The sun has risen,
putting the nocturnals to bed.
Get up golden radiating face,
the plants need to be fed.
© Deon Heemskerk