To see what we see

Blue are the patches of sky
as they seep
through the apple tree’s
blossom

Bright are the lights
by the riverbed
streaming
through skyscrapers’
liquid glass

Dazzling are the sparks
as they dance
between our eyes
with gladness
to see what we see
and to hold what we hold.

Panorama

Your eyes are sprouting droplets. The liquid
streams among the rocks. Autumn is everywhere –
gently cooling down. Other spots on the globe spring to life –
blooming colours bursting warm-luminous hues
their sunny short shadows hugging earth.
Then winter lands, following seasons’ flow
you shiver, hide inside. Leaves leave some trees –
the European ones. The blood is cool, almost still
in reptiles’ veins, growth is slow-mo, a huge yawn
covers the land. The cloud’s tongue promises
life when licking earth. Green shoots are in the waiting.

You walk the Uluru trail, sniffing air in readiness.
The guide book in your hands shows plants and crawlies.
The right pages tell what to expect, how the
pulse may quicken or slow down in the chill,
in the wet or dry, as it comes and as you learn to accept
like the red that’s all around and the artists, their dotting
marking ways through their dreaming
inviting you into yours.

Sara Abend-Sims is a UniSA graduate in Teaching (Visual Art) and Counselling. She exhibited her art work for a number of years, before concentrating on poetry and fiction writing. She is the recipient of two Community Literary Award first prizes, in 2009 and 2015. Her work can be found in this year’s Friendly Street Poet’s Anthology, the Kensington and Norwood Writers’ Group Anthology, and online at Adelaide Campbelltown Council’s website, and this month in the US literary e-journal Haibun Today.

Readers’ original and unpublished poems of up to 40 lines can be emailed, with postal address, to [email protected]. A poetry book will be awarded to each contributor.