July 2026
Beneath the Surface
This is what I asked for this summer afternoon,
the garden fallen into shade,
to see you open the gate
and lean your bicycle against the wall.
To see you walk towards me
bringing wind and sunshine,
sea and woodland;
to sit in quiet conversation,
to exchange the day.
Yet beneath the surface
the world at odds with itself.
Echoing voices of the powerful, insane
reach us from a neighbour’s radio.
The sweet smelling produce
piled in our kitchen
belies the drought.
We are deceived by
ripening apples glowing red.
Just over the horizon
the wildfires burn.