Category: Poetry

Cold is a perceptual thing

Cold
A perceptual thing

Some might say
That looks cold
They would be right

But on a sunny day

Sometimes
All you really need
Is a little help
From a friend

Sometimes
The scale and beauty of nature
Takes my breath away
And my words

I need just one of these
So I let it be breath

It rested there
Nestled in the valley
Watched over by ghost gums
Fortified by mountains

A small outpost
In a large land
A cattle station
In the Red Centre

A pretty thing
A lifetime of utility
Goes to ground
Embraced by nature
Becomes prettier
Still

Sun and rain burrow deep
Into paint and the past
Revealing transitions
And the names of those
Lost to time and memory

Barbed wire and bullet holes
A 20 year old reminder
Of a country broken
And rebuilt
Broken again
And rebuilt

Faint hope

Like the sun, shrouded
Seeking the balcony

Like the little Buddha
An outline in the shadows

Some days
No matter how beautiful it seems
From the perspective you’re viewing
Or how comfortable you feel
Right where you’re standing

Ya just gotta stop
Take stock
And realise

You’ve hit a wall

Some cannot see the beauty
In a burned-out forest
So I find it for her