You can’t write that - how lightbulbs burn dimmer than autumn leaves in the bright afternoon sun. You can’t write how that big ute with its hatred of cyclists makes you sad. Your toes clench at the sight of swastikas on the sign outside the Islamic School. You can’t tell the person who did it how your intestines shrivelled to sultanas under the weight of their intent. You can’t say how you wish the world would be. Cherishing the planet the way you pat your dog’s ears. You’re ruminating on shopping trolleys awash with plastic bags and the man with the bush house who says “we don’t like wombats”. We all mow our own fields so you just sit waiting with your protest signs tucked beside the driver’s door. And still the lights are on.
darkness under lights
Published
Out of the Cave 
I believe your poetry is getting clearer, more illuminated; this one shines; I love the refrain and the sadness it evokes but then! that wonderful analogy of cherishing the planet as we do our pets; it ends as it begins : in Hope —
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Many thanks, John. :-).
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Can’t be friends if you don’t like Wombats. Just thought I would put that out there 🙂
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I know. I’m bamboozled as to why you would have a house in the bush if you didn’t like nature.
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I just wish I had Wombats. Northern Hairy Nosed Wombats used to live around here many many years ago
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It’s a frustrating time we live in, Jo.
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Absolutely!
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I bicycle to work (as long as there is no snow). So I’m no fan of “that big ute” I wish we were doing a better job with our planet.
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TOtally!
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And yet you did write it, and keep writing it. Over and over in one way or another.
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Thanks Chris. It’s a little protest sign in its own way.
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Sure is…
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