Green hills of W Tree

There in hills

so precious green

I sit covered by white

shawl while morning

is still night with stars

so plentiful and close

I could gather them with

my hand.

 

And if you listen

closely you can

hear the corroboree

frogs chanting along

the Snowy mist.

 

Cold, I settle into

my posture.

 

And a light upon

light holds the

world while others

in the valley sleep.

 

What brilliance life

can bring away from

cynicism and fear.

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