A wood pigeon sits on the rail
outside my window,
fat white waistcoat
and iridescent shoulders,
his mind on the Nikau berries
just beyond the edge of the deck.
He’s checking first
to see if we’re inside
and safe.
No sense in taking risks.

The cabbage trees this year
have flowered abundantly.
Old men shake their heads,
‘Going to be a long, hot summer’.
But the cabbage trees
aren’t saying a word.
Only the wood pigeons are counting.

Christmas at the beach
and there’s sand in the sandwiches

© Maureen Sudlow


You’ve probably seen this photo before from me, and don’t forget Antipodes