Poetry

Leon Trainor: Winter Burning

Winter Burning   It’s the wrong phase of the moon but they’ve told us rain is on the way so we’d better get the fires lit before it comes. We don’t need much (pure gum turpentine and a match), once started they will burn all day. Dead trees, dragged in from the paddocks, gathered branches pruned from pear and orange trees release their scents. Flames shoot twenty feet in the air.   She stands, lightly holding a rake, so intense. Neither of us takes our eyes from the fire. She replies without turning and I don’t hear, all our discourse…

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