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“An Aussie January by Stewart Stafford Dead air in the fallen forest, The black goat circled silently, Three hillside crosses sombre, January, warm as an Aussie winter. Boy brandishing a thin, red worm, Cheerful march on raspberry feet, Turning left at the silver potatoes, Leftovers from the gnome’s feast. 4 a.m. wind a rolling bandmaster, Whipping a flagpole cord to a beat, Tingling every wind chime around, The hibernating squirrel missed it. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.” — Stewart Stafford
An Aussie January by Stewart Stafford
Dead air in the fallen forest,
The black goat circled silently,
Three hillside crosses sombre,
January, warm as an Aussie winter.
Boy brandishing a thin, red worm,
Cheerful march on raspberry feet,
Turning left at the silver potatoes,
Leftovers from the gnome’s feast.
4 a.m. wind a rolling bandmaster,
Whipping a flagpole cord to a beat,
Tingling every wind chime around,
The hibernating squirrel missed it.
© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.