a trajectory past leneva (and the wide world)

the world
is at my feet

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

in the afternoon
coming home

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

my trajectory

the hilltops
are lost

cloud and fog
with the turning
of the seasons

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

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

my contemplations

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
or dying
on the street

black bags

but no

is other places

the conflict
is all argument

filling the air
while a nation waits
for tomorrow
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
to fill vacancies

not enough pay
to keep them alive
and well

and not enough
to man
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

so they say

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
and advertisement

and oh –
it makes me gasp –
to buy believers


would have

but that
is tomorrow

or even yesterday
for I have voted

and now . . .

on my way to the computer
a short moment ago
I watched a contrail –
a jet this time –
in the early morning
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

the world
in my head
holds possibilities

and magic happens
when I think
of it

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
no clouds
in the sky


13 thoughts on “a trajectory past leneva (and the wide world)

  1. I enjoyed reading this. I could imagine, for I have yet to see your hometown, the beauty of the Australian bush. I smiled rather than cried through the part that referred to war. I could relate to the feelings about the political argy-bargy and thought Ha ha” I have voted too. This time I vote No 1 for Frank This poem is magnificent

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Derrick. I drive past those hills two-ways a couple of times a week at the moment and I find them a delight. My mind rambles while I contemplate them. Much like the poem – all over the place.

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.