a trajectory past leneva (and the wide world)

the world
is at my feet
today

no
no
it is in my head

I seem able
to hold it there

while driving –
like yesterday –
past the yellow
paddock grasses
that provide texture
to those hills

dotted by green
that is blue
that is eucalypts
growing ninety degrees
to the sky

forty-five only
to the ground

I watch
the play
of their shadows
in the morning
as I travel
there

in the afternoon
coming home

the sun in the sky
and the trees
and grasses . . .

my trajectory

sometimes
the hilltops
are lost

cloud and fog
descend
with the turning
of the seasons

how fortunate
to see a world
in this natural
progression
and
to know it
as my own world

for
if I look up
too rapidly
from my thoughts . . .

my contemplations

sometimes
I see the contrail
of a missile
or the impact
of a shell-burst

a debris field
where once
might have been
a village

or a town

or a building
with people resident

with people
dead
or dying
on the street

black bags
zipped

but no

that
is other places

here
the conflict
is all argument

verbals
filling the air
while a nation waits
for tomorrow
and
a democracy sausage

it is the tradition
to hold a barbecue
at the polling booths

a celebration
at the end
of an election campaign

a relief
that the nation has survived
another round
of promises
and vitriol

and lies

although –
they say –
there may be
some problems

the pandemic
is still alive
and well

there are not enough
workers
to fill vacancies

not enough pay
to keep them alive
and well

and not enough
to man
all
the polling booths

some towns
will have to travel
to have a say

some people
are in self-isolation

they won’t have
a chance
to express their
governmental intentions
and desires

or
so they say

that
is what they say

it is a funny thing –
my personal
observation –
it is the liars
who seem to have the most
to say

the most money to spend
to purchase
influence
and advertisement

and oh –
it makes me gasp –
to buy believers

true
believers

who
would have
thought

but that
is tomorrow

or even yesterday
for I have voted
early

and now . . .

well
on my way to the computer
a short moment ago
I watched a contrail –
a jet this time –
in the early morning
darkness
that is almost light –
fly straight
into a star

I know
I know
it was actually flying
to sydney

it was actually a planet
not a star

I somehow
know –
even yet –
what is reality

what is not

but
the world
in my head
holds possibilities

and magic happens
when I think
of it

if
I think of it

I wanted
to take a picture
of that contrail

of that light

that star

but no
I can only hold it
in my mind
if I make a little room
for it in there

or write it
as an image
in a picture
of the state
of a world that begins
driving past
the leneva hills
on the way
to wodonga

and the changing angles
of the shadows
of the trees
as my trajectory
goes past

it is a beautiful day
today
no clouds
in the sky

~