By Allan Lake
My chilly 50’s apartment:
beyond the pane of glass
winter-lush garden,
sun half trying.
An ineffectual middling star
lacks fire power over
World’s Most Livable City.
Didn’t want the heater on
or a bulky woolen jumper but
will opt for both anyway.
Hot tea, toast and marmalade made
of oranges from hot Sicilian hillsides.
Secret: I like Melbourne winter.
Don’t tell a Sicilian or a brown snake.
Electric blanket gets switched on.
My icicle extremities and sense of well-being
as good as married but I do venture
out and scout for vernal signs along the canal,
round the park, along the beach
without a puppy, knowing spring arrives
just once annually; will behave erratically.
Image by: Stijin Swinnen
