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A blue moon and blue jazz in August

An August sky in the southern world

Is what I look upon this morning

Pale blue grey clouds, ashen and pallid

Some thin and some expansive

Most, full of shadow and resemblances

But seemingly immobile, sitting there

And in the air an early scent of wattle and

Miles sketching notes of melancholy and memory

Brings her to my mind

Those days when life had another meaning

When affinity and romance pledged forever

And the universe never stood still,


And so how do I see her now?

Still much the same really

Her welcoming smile and joyful laughter

That twinkle in her green brown eyes

Looking up quizzical like

Those teasing freckles on her cheeks

And how she is the way she gets angry

And all that she gives

In the depth of her truth,


This time then

Moored in that place

Recalls when as her boatman I rowed to her reef

and anchored for a while in the shelter of her love,

Now in this day that it is

These reminiscences give swagger and lightness to my soul

To go on into the unknown

With the sun on my face and hope in my heart

I stand tall to greet what comes 

Blue Paper
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