A Mojave Moment

When the bus broke down on the way to Vegas
we had a choice
stay inside and cook
or seek the shade
on the far side of the bus and look
at Joshua trees
twisted in the shimmering heat

Our Mojave moment
blistered with dry fence posts at strange angles
a listless wind vane pumping nothing
for nobody and going nowhere

Over the State line
a blaze of neon
announces the prospect
of a cool beer
but the only froth in sight
spews from the emptying radiator

Going to Vegas always was a gamble

Mojave Desert
Art: Roger Smith

COVID Capers

The couple doing their stretches in a garage
converted to a make-shift gym
dog walkers on a leash smile and wave
at me, or was it him?

The great silence.

Can you hear it? 

Still

Falling leaves cushion the tread
of the morning walk
A pile of books long stored
and seldom read

Buckle in for the long term
the world as we knew it is no more
its nature's way of settling the score.

Roger Smith, April, 2020

P.O.W.

Your old cobbers
used to come and visit
sharing POW stories
of camp radios and forced marches

You left New Zealand in your prime
the enthusiasm of youth
and memories of bicycle trips
over the Canterbury Plains.

Never sharing the pain of Crete
friends lost in the beat of battle
captive in your memory
as strong as the barbed wire that encircled you
for four long years

You shielded us, your children
from the realities of war
and the horrors that you saw

My father returned a man
with hearing lost from bombs on Crete
clutching still a battered violin
and thoughts that would not find him
PEACE

Roger Smith
October 2019