Sweep heavenward as holy words.
To praise the deity whose sweeping brush,
Endows; sustains this painted land.
Azure dome and dying sun,
Backlit hills and forest crown,
Proclaim as king; this ghostly gum.
By season at this river elbow,
Gnarled feet washed clean or packed with loam.
Melt waters swirl; tear and snarl,
Stripping the great gum's footstool bare.
Distant rains a tribute bring,
Silted debris to restore.
A bank of grass and alpine flowers,
Peace and tranquillity.
The vaulted heavens; a gleaming shroud,
A mountain range of gale streaked cloud.
Step on step with Everest shapes,
Loom above the distant plains.
Wagon wheels clash on flinty rock,
Wheezing horses ease and rest.
Riders, sulkies, traps and carts,
Spread across the windswept hill.
Sobs and whispers; families group,
Around the fresh grave scar.
The river; calm and respectful,
Murmurs to the great gum as quiet men move,
A tiny box to the open hole.
The pealing voice; echoes in praise,
Of the Deity, the day and the place.
In sorrow to life's tragedy,
The stillborn son, sadly missed,
A first time at his father's side.
His vigil now restored,
Arches his mighty arms to the heavens;
Braces his roots against the river.
Once more to protect the tiny graveyard,
From his wet and changeable friend.
Ignatius Writealot Home