The Budawangs
All that day scored by the undergrowth,
which was as much within ourselves
as the whipping and sly entanglements
and a cavernous bush occluding any sky,
we followed a map of a little sound,
of trickling water until dark
and slept when it seemed to slip
from us.
Then in the morning,
like a nest hidden among thorns,
three feet away,
a pool of still water,
self-contained like wisdom,
calmly held our faces
as we drank.
Russell Erwin
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