Saturday, April 24, 2010

On Learning of the Death of an Old Friend

This poem was originally submitted for my uni paper Creative Writing.  This is the revised version.

They put out the bushfire yesterday.
When I drove past today, the bare black ground
still smouldered in patches with an angry orange glow.
Acrid smoke hung in the air, flaring my nose
and making my eyes stream with tears.

I passed the site of the bushfire today.
The trees were still bare and black,
but a wallaby cropped at coarse, green grass
where before there was only ash.

I wandered deep into the bush today.
There are still gaps like missing teeth
where the trees have not recovered.
But the gumtrees are grey-green,
and magpies swoop with shrill cries
While I tread new paths through the bracken.

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