© Copyright Brian Hawkins, 2010
At last we have arrived at the shining moment
When the afternoon cannot end,
Even as it's beginning to fade –
The winter sun alone with his joy,
The crow with his lonely voice
High up crossing the impossible
Blue. And a lyrebird
Starts sobbing in a lightless gulley
As the grass grows ever more gold.
Monday, May 24, 2010
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