the colour of our lives

poetry • celebration • faith • nature • humanity • imperfections • glory

the hands of the earth

In small ratcheting voices
creekline frogs name their
watercourses: creak, creak,
see-saw then hush     as if

taller eyes might get a bearing.
Over the distant groans of the
highway, a morphing aluminous
sky pushes cool air through

spring-green eucalypts into
fields of hissing weeds, dancing
seedheads above soil and stones
the colour of upturned palms.

Black ants hurry in parallel
queues with no beginning or
end, searching the hands of
the earth for invisible bounty.

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4 thoughts on “the hands of the earth

  1. “spring-green eucalypts into
    fields of hissing weeds”
    I like how you played with the word eucalyptus
    its seems right somehow…

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