Forth Hill

Bunjil created this dreaming
a crash of thunder and a hurling star
threw a landscape of beauty and plenty
that would stand for thousands of years
gold bought them in and broke them
the micks, the chinks, the poms
I see their ghosts running through the forest
it consumes the evidence of their passing
mines and sheds and steel succumb to natures endeavors
growing through history to create a wedge of green
a contested space
the cities lungs
the forest breathes life, and fire
both glowing with the bright and blinding light of an Australian summer
Hester, John and Sunday painted Friday’s black
and still the river flows ever onward
washing away the forests tears
and it’s struggle to make us love it
so it can love us in return


Image: Warrandyte, Victoria

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