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to
glory in
a first
sun through
dewdrop
trees
now
winter risen
kookaburra
sung
all tall
and in
their leaning true
old edges
frost burnt
creek
gone to its river
grass run
green
and
tracks among
in air
and under
wings and
wiggling through
leaf
drifted
to the
mulching
here and
there
camera
caught
in mist
list distance
spoken so
to glory
in
a rise
Wonderful, Kit. Now making me homesick! :)
ReplyDeletesuch an inspiring landscape!
ReplyDelete