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Two Poems

Andrew Lansdown

Apr 30 2011

0 mins

WHEATBELT WILLY-WILLY

No matter how the fingers stretch
and splay, there remains
a depression in the palm of the hand.

Just so the sparsely-stubbled
wheatbelt paddock dips
indecisively beyond the far fence.

And in the hollow, the wind
is dancing like a gypsy, whirling
in her red skirts, her auburn hair.

THE GRAVITY OF THE SLIGHT

Gravity can grab
even a thing as slight as
a dragonfly wing.
Look, the end of the still blade
is dipping towards the earth.
 


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