Backyard Icons

That's how lit windows often appear to me, whether with or without their blinds drawn. Not that they tell me much, if anything, of the neighbours' lives (and I wouldn't wish them to). But if houses were animals windows would be their eyes, and as the twilight deepens they flicker into life, sparking a memory of my childhood delight in advent calendars, opening those bright, surprising cartoons.

Below is a poem that sprouted from our backyard (now too overgrown even for washing lines, though we do have plans to clear it out soon). It's from my first collection, AIRBORNE. The tree mentioned is not the sturdy, rounded one in the background, over the neighbours' wall. Our tree is down the steps to the right, so only a few nearby branches are visible:

"Cultural Identity"

makes me think of my dark
overgrown little back garden,

more moss than grass, the granite wall
shawled in ivy. Enough space

for the washing to do its line-dance
and, slendering upwards,

a tall-storied old ash
keeping time with time.