December Spirits
December morning
and already life is withdrawing
into the shade. The air
has the smell of smoke
blowing down from bushfires
burning up north. The sun
wears a red glow.
The veneer of normality
begins to crack under heat
to reveal what's beneath,
a furnace of fire. It's the way
of the land, primed as it is
with a vapour of eucalyptus oil
hanging in a blue haze
waiting for an errant spark
to ignite the very air.
There is a strange beauty
to it all when seen
from a distance, the tinted
sky, the play of light
through clouds of ash,
too far away to feel the heat
or hear the roar. Each summer
the spirits stir and emerge
in flame from the charcoal
chambers of their ancient past
as if to remind us
that we trespass.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2024
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