When you came here
It was the time for the acacias
The winter was warm and sweet
With the promise of their flowering.
Old trees, massed dark and green
Bursting suddenly bright yellow
Enriching the valley
Changing with every change
of the sky and the sun.
You are still here
This morning tender tributaries
Swell the plentiful earth.
When you are here
Everything I am doing is for you.
Everything is part of a tender worship
The shining water of the stream in flood
Flowing over flat banks and over the bridge
of weathered railway sleepers. Jarrah trimmed
Long quiet paddocks clover strewn
Orchard ripening pears and sturdy quince
Velvet first fruits and grape bunches
Hanging secretly.
All the blossom and all the fruit
All the harvest when it comes
Even the constant changing of the season
Is yours.