Julie Louise Jones

British Camp

For Chloe

 

Stepped hill

weather black

anchored as

an iron boat

on a

river of green, a

sea of trees froth

clouds drop

make sails, billowing

You and I

two specks in a mighty ocean.

Blue Notes

 

Birdsong,

stretched blue notes lap

stilled summer skies, where

blacked flies circle

ripening plums and

lengthening cat stretch on

cool rolled ribbons on green.

 

Across the street, an ice cream van

pelts tin tunes.

Yet small cries of delight have

grown out of the garden and

the only answering call is

birdsong.