Dale Harcombe Poems

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My daughter raises the smooth
brass kaleidoscope
and watches as coloured glass slivers
conspire together.
New worlds create themselves before her eyes.
Garnet spires flirt with sapphire
and turquoise.
Topaz and amethyst meet in harmony,
a selenic mystery.
A melody of stars singing a tune only she
can hear.
Eclectic patterns shiver and shimmer
then splinter,
sparking off at tangents of
tourmaline and jasper.
An image complete in itself.



I had a kaleidoscope once.
Sometimes
I still see oblique patterns.

Slowly my daughter turns the wheel, finds
a jewelled tapestry
to her liking, and hands the kaleidoscope
to me.
For a time I see the world she sees
and it is good.


*First published LiNQ October 1990

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