Today the wind
cuts the world into a jigsaw
of leaves and air and fickle cold
dust rises like chiffon
weeds in the garden unravel
grass streams in search of the sea
the umbrella tree turns itself
inside out sunlight slides
slippery as rain down its spokes
poplars quiver and relinquish
dry rattles by the fence where a newspaper
spreads flat as two hands clenches
then waves away
thin and hot as fish seagulls
are tossing in a vat of sun
while behind glass almost safe I sit
the wind
slicing my thoughts to tickertape
I flutter at the edges of windows
teased to pieces farewelling myself
reassembling on rooftops like mist
and I search for clouds solid cut-out dreams
the last lost pieces to paste against the wind,
to keep the sky from falling.
(from Verandahs 1990)