A thin green stalk, rigid despite its size,

holds a few dozen purple flower heads.

The colours so crisp and the dimensions so exact,

it’s hard to believe something this perfect was born in the soil.

Now it lives in a small glass jar,

painted with snowflakes,

with a faint scent of ginger on its smooth walls.


The Bridge

The creek sings softly,

as the water slides over moss covered rocks,

in its neverending journey to the sea.

Boats bob slightly in the harbour,

and seagulls glide aimlessly over their sails.

Beyond, there is just blue,

for miles, until the sea touches the sky.