It is morning over here across the equator.
It is night where you are now.
Do you sleep in a room that is green, with green velvet curtains?
In your Spring, do you dream of a lost Autumn of silver, cold to the skin?
Are your eyes closed now, like wheels on the bottom of the ocean?
Wood smoke curls around the moon here,
It is 2 a.m.
Do you sometimes wake to hear my voice, although I am not there.
Does a three coloured cat ever appear in your garden, and blink at you, with emerald eyes?
I ask, because it is morning here, with a silver moon, an Autumnal Mon,
And a Spring night where you lie sleeping
Surrounded by dreams,
as if in forest of scent
A forest with a green velvet floor.
Wendy Ella Wright is a poet and translator from Australia and many years in Japan.
