When The Frangipani Blooms 2

[Bob Pacey]

Made a change to this can you pick where ? Gees I wish we could centre line our poems sometimes it adds to the presentation.

When The Frangipani Blooms

The breeze is blowing softly with the coming of the dawn
as the suns rays filter through the morning gloom.
The butcher birds are singing from atop the swaying gums
and the
Frangipani’s finally in bloom.

The sweet smell of eucalyptus finds me on the gentle breeze
bringing with it memories of years gone by.
I watch the ibis streaming in a line across the flats
silhouetted dark against the morning sky.

This is the sweetest time in this place I call my home
Winters gone and Summers slowly building steam.
The time of year when flowers bloom and fill the air with scents
that can take you anywhere you care to dream.

The sun peeks o’er the ocean and the surf just comes alive
with reflections sparkling on the building tide.
The golden sands caress me as they squeak beneath my feet
the heart strings pull as to this place I’m tied.

Gentle balmy mornings herald humid sunlit days
nature now is turning on its finest show.
You can hear the wood ducks whistle as they head on out to feed
Black cockatoos feed in the branches low

They say we have two seasons either wet or hot and dry
but we know there’s so much more to it then gloom.
As natures wonderland unfolds and Summer shows it wares
and the
Frangipani’s finally in bloom.

Bob Pacey (c)

[Shelley Hansen]

I like the altered format Bob. It draws the eye and adds to the interest.

Just one thing - you're still stuck in the "barmy" morning. Though some unkind people might suggest that this is a Freudian slip, I do believe you mean "balmy" morning.

But in any case, barmy or balmy - there really is nothing like the frangipani in bloom!

Cheers, Shelley

[Bob Pacey]

I have changed that at least twice must go back and check the original word copy.



Bob