By Stephen Denham


You’re still with us, Peter -
aged and shrunken still …
just arboreal; spirited
among the boughs of the
pot-sized Moreton Bay fig
you bequeathed us, before
you skedaddled upstairs.
Olden limbs stretch happily
upwards and out in our verandah’s
breeze and shade - leaves lush warm
in the sun or deep glistening green
in the drizzle; cyclically
verdant, thriving,
failing, falling.
James Beam aside, you always
preferred your generous clique of
angiosperm, your sacred
inflorescent kingdom …
to the company
of humans.
Now, Lilliputian in your majesty,
it is you who accompanies us
through the seasons, asking
nothing in return, save a good
morning sparge, amid
reveries of your crusty
quips and King-sized


This poem is a public submission created for Red Room Poetry's New Shoots digital poetry anthology