#888 - at Blue Hole

 

11.vi.22

888 

3.161

at Blue Hole

near Armidale

 

framing as from branches perched

rug up

 

just a tumble of stone

fell off the map

along with the folk

 

you’re where

 

still pool

anterior roar

winter in the clouds

 

who sings for the sunstruck moss?

 

mud boots

a dawdle

rush over

till

standing white

 

bridgemidst giddy

with tinnitus of creek

spent feathers

burr

undercling

 

so meet at

stonescape of falls

nearly flat

but where do they get that roar?

 

flume was timber here there too

the town that tamed long gone

 

this power remains

 

cold air sleeps us well

 

stop like a boulder

here anywhere

just for these lines

in the view

 

come round a corner

hear the sunlight again

then the falls are past