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Driving Through Wattle

Leon Trainor

Jan 01 2014

0 mins

Driving Through Wattle

 

First it grips the base of a hill

far away, then its bright yellow

wanders amongst the forest trees

like holy breath, drawing close until,

tall as eucalypts, it crowds

them aside with shouts of gold

and a sudden crash of scent.

It’s as if we breached a portal

to belong in another life

and, afterwards alone, still dazed

and vacant because a grace

went out of us, have this belief:

offer up in wonderment

all the joy of being mortal.

 

Leon Trainor

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