ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

WALKIES

Remnants of fog clinging damp, smelling smoky,
are whisping in drifts round my knees.
Walking the dogs at the start of daylight
before birds have departed the trees,
colourful lorikeets green, gold and crimson
and blue now explode into flight
scared by the antics of one dancing cat,
or my dogs barking now with delight.

The faint chink of money is heard as the milkman
delivers a bottle or two,
to the front verandah of twenty four Down Street –
a job now that not many now do.
He mutters G’day as he passes by –
no breeze is lifting the mist to the sky
but all ‘s right with my world and nothings awry
so the two dogs and me just pass by.

Maureen Clifford © 10/12

Nice word picture, Maureen.

Now I don't want to be picky, but, strictly speaking, the second line should begin 'are' not 'is'. I can understand the confusion, but it is not merely the fog that is whisping, it is the remnants of the fog that are whisping - it's the remnants, not merely the fog. This is plural, not singular, and demands 'are', not 'is'. Hope that makes sense.

Here endeth the lesson.

Lesson duely attended and changes made - thank you kind sir for your able assistance.

That'll learn me to pay more attention in class.

I can't resist, either, Maureen. Stephen must be as 'anal' (excuse me) as I am.

Wot is a whisp?
Are they perhaps wispy remnants of fog?

Whisp is always a great word to know. So is ninnyhammer

Whisp as in whispering around, barely there. Did you buy that? Bummer

Nice picture you paint Maureen. It's a beautiful time of the day isn't it?

Heather