a breeze
breathes about
the absolute
putrid silence
ancient eels sip
the surface
Anzac poppy —
the first taste
of colonial blood
mountain light —
mouthing words until
they do not do
the same fingers
flickering still
to the death
of light
a camera
marking the death-knell
of becoming
autumn tide —
which way tugs
clouds eyes gazing
at clouds
curling sunset
the death toll
of leaves
with each year 
I am less