Silvan Dam
under a broad sign “Silvan Reservoir Park”
I turn the steering wheel and see wristwatch hands
pointing to a quarter past three in the afternoon
there is enough time for tea and biscuits by the dam
before sunset slowly erases
colours from the Dandenong Ranges
I suppose this is where I crush autumn leaves
(some red and some green)
quite crisply and cleanly
on the base of my leather-strap boots
and I step onto the warm silvan lawn
over small yellow patches
where sunlight burnt holes in the grass
“lay the blanket down there”
where words have not been uttered
in several decades
this is where I learnt to play catch
by the force of a hard red cricket ball
on nervous, shaking hands
I hope to hold onto one today
listen to the wind rustle the trees
and that cyclical rhythm
oo-oo-aa-aa-aa
when kookaburras laugh
as if to say “I see you, dear”
and what I say
when the clock is well past three
and colours are erased
and the woods are not familiar to me
is that here in Autumn
is heaven on earth
Copyright © Rishabh Bhargava | Year Posted 2022
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