Tuesday, April 24, 2018

MT TOMAH IN THE SUN



Sitting on the deck of the café,
an ocean of eucalypts,
valleys and peaks formed millennia ago
and the autumn sun wash away my infirmities. 

I can read in the brilliant light
without glasses. Today it’s warm 
enough to have bare feet. 
No need for hearing aids:
the songs of birds and breeze
are audible and I understand. 

The tree ferns speak of times when gums were not 
and the now long-buried volcano 
dispensed larva like words in an argument,
when dinosaurs with tiny brains and big feet
crashed and crushed their way to dominance –
although none was a match for evolution. 

I ask the Wollemi Pine to interpret
but there is no response. 
I’m left in the silence
to consider contemporary America.  

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