A murky veil blurs the hills
Shades of gray depress the sky
Mary Lake lies still, leaden,
Islands squat dismally,
While sodden leaves, drooping
Absorb this wearisome deluge.

Hanging from the glistening rail,
Shiny droplets lose their tenuous grip;
Petunias in baskets, slump, defeated,
Deck flooring shines wax-like,
Birds, animals and bugs
Hunker down and wait
For a glimpse of sun
As do I!

-Eleanor Kidd-

A blanket of silence, white and still,
Covers the wintry lake,
No hint of warmth wrapped within.
Shadows, like unsheathed sabres
Lying abandoned, link islands to shore.
Assuming a stern military stance,
Hills in rigid, glacial rows
Glare icily at darkly etched maples,
Bowing to a frigid breeze’s whim.
An occasional capricious snowflake
Drifts up, down and around,
A sly reminder of our vulnerability
To all of the Iceman’s vagaries.

Eleanor Kidd, Port Sydney

On strategic survival missions
Miniature Spitfires
Perform their air show
Outside our window
Free of charge.

Svelte, sylph-like, surreal
Darting, twisting, swerving
Plunging towards their quarry
They burn up the sky
Oblivious of their fans.

Heedless of brilliance
With no applause
Again, with daring they stage
Impossible aerobatic stunts
An exquisite encore

Eleanor Kidd, Port Sydney