Beginning with dawn and with an ideal,
to wake with the Kookaburras at first light
beaten by a Fan-tailed Cuckoo this week.
As the sun wanders into the garden,
the cunning of jièjǐng is apparent and
the way light works when fresh and robust.
Walking on water is closed, the river bed sways
the walkway is bent, but besides it’s a beginning,
mangroves have dug into the mud to fit together
The Japanese Irises are all becoming flowers,
the long leaves crinkle then bulge, unfurl flaps
wide open, then a day or two later shrivel and close.
I never buy flowers for Wyn. The flowers
are from a friend who came for breakfast.
How romantic, she thought, when I mentioned
that in more than one poem I describe
Wyn’s retinas as cornflower blue,
that’s about love and clear sightedness.
Borrowed garden: Chinese: jièjǐng; Japanese: shakkei.
Mangroves in the Bagabaga River.