by IAN REID
Some neighbours shun some outlooks.
Across the street the blinds are always shut.
It’s nothing personal; she seems civil enough
but likes to keep eyes closed to the trickling traffic.
They are luckier here in this old house
where vistas open out in all directions.
The passage of cars is hardly noticeable
because a line of vision lifts above them
to the river’s broad expanse, the distant shore,
the panorama’s full and fair disclosure
of everything from dawn onwards past noon
to the skyline drama’s last act for the day
as the sun bows low, exiting stage west
and the light goes through gradations from yellow
to an orange flush to red to grey to black.
– Swan River, Perth, WA