Face the Strange

ONE

       who trims the tops off waves
to watch them bleed white curlicues?

             Only the ‘arbourist


TWO

boy with bent knees
       swims loudly in the pool
  
belly through a doughnut hole
          face a joy of sun and blue

     splash flings three metres high
          drops as big as bees
            
(those hopscotch occupants
               of drooping big belled trees)

            pollen in the rain roulette
       glistening bludgeons and happy shouts


    THREE

     soft smut of wetted air
               ghost of a vanished rainbow
                   the fog is lifting

Inspired by Miz Quickly “Turn and face the Strange”