At a local fete,

For a bit of fun,

We made it a date,

To be kids, bar none.

So all the men climbed

Into old bags of flour,

And when the noon bell chimed,

They jumped with all their power.

The hardest fought of adult sack races,

With dust flying up over hands and faces.

I think the winner was supported the most,

But by the finish he looked like a ghost!
© Caro Ness 2015
  

Stars sprinkle the skies,

Snowflakes of light,

Yet the night is alive

With unfurling banners of colour,

And the flames burn 

Yellow, scarlet, green.

Fire in the sky.

© Caro Ness 2015

   Photo: Adam Hill

Sky blue eggs

In a nest of brown

Spun straw

And just one chick hatched

From its egg

Yellow as the yolk

That nourished if

And already demanding

Food

© Caro Ness 2015 

Skewbald, 

Pinto,

Painted horse.

A glorious accident 

Of genetics,

That produces 

Horses with skins

Of two colours.

White

And either black

Or various shades of brown,

In this case, a rich chestnut.

Pinto,

Skewbald,

Painted horse.

© Caro Ness 2015 

I’m lying here on this cushioned towel,

Because today I’ve been feeling somewhat foul.

My head is rested on this lime creepy crawly,

Because I am spent and I’m rather poorly.

Yesterday I was full of fun,

And so I chose to run and run.

But now exhaustion’s caught up with me,

And  I’m as dog tired as I could be.

So leave me be and let me sleep,

Besides, you see, I’m counting sheep!!

© Caro Ness 2015 

Strange trees

That perhaps 

Bear strange fruit

Like giant

Bracts of

Broccoli

© Caro Ness 2015

Photo: наталья

Norway in winter:

Raindrops on a winter bough,

Frozen as they slipped down each branch,

They resemble icy love hearts,

Attached to the tree,

By the twigs that run through them.

© Caro Ness 2015 

We always form an orderly line,

With our mother swimming right behind,

She wants to make sure that her charges are fine,

And with her we’re safe.

I

She always keeps us in her sight,
Because we are not yet equipped for flight,

If we’re attacked she’ll put up a fight 

Yes, with her, we’re safe. 

 © Caro Ness 2015 

We are alike, can you tell us apart?

We are ready to dash and dart,

We’re quicksilver, mercury, fast as fast,

Our skill at aerials is unsurpassed,

We’re an exercise in symmetry,

Safe up here in our homestead tree.

© Caro Ness 2015

Photo: наталья

An exercise in monochrome,

Apart from a parasol orange dome,

 A woman travelling gently home,

The lady on the bike.

An exercise in black and white,
Except an umbrella that’s dynamite,

This cyclist is cool, yes, she’s alright,

The lady on the bike.
An exercise in white and black,

Except for a startling orange attack,

Elegance is not what this cyclist lacks.

The lady on the bike.

© Caro Ness 2015

Photo: Silvana Ronchiadin