#Australians #Women
When summer days grow harsh my thoughts return to my river, fed by white mountain springs, beloved of the shy bird, the bellb… whose cry is like falling water.
Under the death of winter’s leaves… who cried to Nothing and the terri… to be his home and bread. ‘O take… the weight and waterfall ceaseless… that batters down my weakness; the…
The moon drained white by day lifts from the hill where the old pear-tree fallen in… springs up in blossom still. Women believe in the moon:
The day was clear as fire, the birds sang frail as glass, when thirsty I came to the creek and fell by its side in the grass. My breast on the bright moss
I saw our golden years on a black… our time of love spilt in the furi… ‘O we are winter-caught, and we mu… said the dark dream, ‘and time is… —And woke into the night; but you…
All things conspire to hold me fro… even my love, since that would mask you and unna… till merely woman and man we live. All men wear arms against the rebe…
The eyeless labourer in the night, the selfless, shapeless seed I hol… builds for its resurrection day— silent and swift and deep from sig… foresees the unimagined light.
We meet and part now over all the… we, the lost company, take hands together in the night,… the night in our brief happiness,… We, who sought many things, throw…
This is not I. I had no body once… only what served my need to laugh… and stare at stars and tentatively… on the fringe of foam and wave and… Eyes loved, hands reached for me,…
That time of drought the embered a… burned to the roots of timber and… The crackling lime-scrub would not… and Mooni Creek was sand that yea… The dingo’s cry was strange to hea…
Along the road the magpies walk with hands in pockets, left and ri… They tilt their heads, and stroll… In their well-fitted black and whi… They look like certain gentlemen
Now let the draughtsman of my eyes… marking the line of petal and of h… Let the long commentary of the bra… be silent. Evening and the earth a… and bird and tree are simple and s…
When I was a child I saw a burning bird in a tree. I see became I am, I am became I see. In winter dawns of frost
The song is gone; the dance is secret with the dancers in the… the ritual useless, and the tribal… lost in an alien tale. Only the grass stands up
Tunnelling through the night, the… in a splendour of power, with a so… shaking the orchards, waking the young from a dream, scattering… the old mens’ sleep, laying