In the year that feels More than yesterday And less than tomorrow A vibration of uncertainty Trickles throughout the hills
Wood smoke fills the air on rainy days And I think the lyrebirds search for Puffing Billy in the gullies Business is not as usual Belgrave is eerily soundless
In the crevices of stone Fragile flowers thrive Pendulous pale yellow buds Blossom on the Acacia tree And Mt Dandenong is king
Beneath a marble fountain Bees sleep on love In a humble garden We eat and talk in given light A sociable distance we keep
I touch the tall trees without a mask Their oxygen enters humanity’s lungs As the virus floats about unseen I miss my Mum the most I’m glad the currawongs are here
Living inside a vortex-like pandemic Keeps the community at home and Connecting via the online world It is the sage of the season And that is the fact of beauty
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