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 millions 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

as 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

Clara, Boyd and Tucker

painted wattles gold

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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