lighting the gas ring:
Petals of blue and violet arrayed in the symmetry of a circle, like a daisy. The beauty of this haiku is so unobtrusive, its richness so modest. Lit in the early hours, perhaps before dawn, you might imagine the face of the one lighting the gas ring, softly aglow – are they the flower? The narratives that suggest themselves here are left entirely for the reader. One might hear too, the gentle hiss of the gas ring, detect the motion of flames, see an occasional flicker of orange and feel its warmth. Our attention though is specifically drawn to the likeness of the gas ring and a flower, a visually stunning image and satisfying in itself; yet there are spaces here for stories, like morning’s first flower ready to unfold.
Wattle Winds, (St Lucia: Paper Wasp, 1994), p.1