[David Callin]

REVISION

The gorse is out.
It’s kissing season.
The smell of coconut
butters the breeze,

sending it reeling
to our nostrils
on our evening walks.

The usual lanes
grow sultry
and mysterious,
all Gauguin-like,

and when we come down
to the ford again,
the familiar bridge,

the coconut corridor
is left behind,
but kissing season
goes on and on.

ORIGINAL

The gorse is out.
It’s kissing season.
The smell of coconut
butters the breeze,

sending it reeling
to our nostrils
on our evening walks,

so that we seem
to be wandering
through tropical climes.

The usual lanes
grow sultry
and mysterious,
all Gauguin-like,

and when we come down
to the ford again,
the familiar bridge,
the usual roads.

the coconut corridor
is left behind,
but kissing season
goes on and on.