Glory

I have watched tree-giants in deep forest-cathedrals declare glory, speak of heaven in sanctuaries where birds rejoice between branches under leafy-windows – green and gold. I have seen where roots pierce stone. Then, glazed December cracked. Empty summer storms thundered, stabbed lightning straight through giant-hearts to the dirt floor. Fire: raging fever, contagion, pain, death, loss, ashes. And afterwards, the once-burnt feet of a lone koala, a soothed survivor, were clinging anew to the arm of a tree, waiting for more disaster. We heard the next thing coming on the weather-report and put the bikes in the shed. Here it is! One cloud, like a fist, hits hard. Leather-dry-sky splits into a dark stampede. Invading gales rip bones from trees, pelt rain at dust, dust that leaps up, surprised to fall as mud, mud that tumbles, twists into bubbling brown creeks, rivers, dams; overspills, smothers, kills fire, drowns. It’s all been on my screen, along with the newborn grandchild un-kissed. When will I tip-toe to see new growth on the charred forest giants, hear loud cicadas chant, and celebrate – singing with lorikeet lunatics, and a first kiss? Sill dressed in beauty - this weary world patiently waits for the next. ................................................ Written after 2019/2020 'Black Summer' bushfires and floods, and Covid related news and lockdowns.