OLD GUM TREE

Old gum

by a dry creek bed,

so long I’ve known you

and yet I haven’t -

can’t.

How can I know

of the ancient people,

custodians of our land,

gathered in your shade,

to sing the timeless songs,

share the timeless dreaming?

How can I know,

with the early explorers,

the challenge – fear –

of an unknown land,

its vastness beyond experience,

challenges beyond belief?

How can I know

the hope

of the early settlers,

lured by good seasons

then destroyed

by drought?

Old gum

by the old dry creek bed,

I have rested in your shade,

wondered at your knowledge

and am indeed blessed.

By the Horrocks Highway near Gulnare SA

Summer Rain

At last,

out of the heat,

dust

and fires,

rain came.

Not a lot;

just enough

to lay the dust,

freshen the air,

lift spirits.

A passing entertainment

rather than

a resolution

of the summer drought

gripping the land.

A few forks of lightning

in the western sky,

a rumbling of thunder

overhead,

then the downpour.

Refreshing rain,

drumming on the roof,

flooding the gutters

and clearing the air.

Welcome visitor.

But then it was gone,

eastward over the hills

to spread its joy

elsewhere,

to others.

Until autumn,

the dry would return,

the dust stir,

the fires rekindle.

Summer.

April scenes, just north of Gulnare, South Australia, following rain. 

A Walk Remembered

I took the clifftop walk that day

high above the beach,

walking slowly,

carefully,

leaning against the blast

of a storm

howling in from the sea.

Standing in the lee of a rock,

looking out to sea,

I saw them,

gliding,

wheeling,

harnessing the wind,

seagulls riding a tempest.

Later,

down in a cove,

sheltered from the gale,

I trudged

through sand,

stepping around rocks

of ancient ripples engraved in stone.

Note: A revisit/rewrite of a poem written some years ago after a walk along the coast at Seacliff.