To My Wife in Tokyo

There seemed always to be a surplus of springs But now in September I stand at our door Valuing the marginal sun's balm for my bones The washing I forgot last night damp with dew Your garden's fragrance filling my chest The cats charming me but no e-mail from you... And in the distractions of the footy finals and The Commonwealth Games the election bores on The Government trying a re-run of the old tax rort - Rich Lions telling poor Lambs that they are "free" As useful scapegoats arrive by sea Business as usual the cards stacked but wobbling... Yet the sun's coming South and soon so will you.