by Maree Reedman
My backyard is blanketed
in lavender flowers, little trumpets,
heralding memories of university days,
exam time, the year ending, and
who liked purple and blue,
how she cut down the majestic
jacaranda on her footpath
because it was close to the power lines.
There’s a family of frogmouths
in the paperbarks at work.
My niece and nephew
are getting their licences,
Dad’s going on another cruise.
My mother died in the dead
of winter, she wouldn’t wait
for the frangipani to sprout green leaves
at the end
of its old fingers.
Maree Reedman lives in Brisbane with one husband, two cockatiels, and five ukuleles. Her poetry has been published in the United States and Australia in Chiron Review, Naugatuck River Review, Unbroken, Stickman Review, Grieve, Hecate, StylusLit, and has won Ipswich Poetry Feast awards, including a mentorship with Carmen Leigh Keates.
Seeking words with sizzle, poetry that wraps us in burning ribbons and won't let go. Send us your best!
Photo used under Creative Commons from John Donges