Travelling
you turned my
day
to dreams
with poems
I woke last night
in light
to thunder
a closing door
fell back, to
shadows
we travel
our friends sing the rain
they warned us
laughing
just how much they’d
sing
driving on
through hill
country
lichen stones
yellow paddocks
Midnight Oil
police tape laces
a car body
three blunt
trucks stop
at a shoulder
in Cooma Café
a map of Anatolia
in pale blue and
yellow
apricots and
Apollo
the whole wall
a morning
before the border
a herd of fat white
goats
graze
we speed past
a broken church
and fields of solar
panels
like a wide grey
river
flowing upwards
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.