We wandered through sedges,
Through bracken and dogwood scrambles.
From crushed leaf and rotten branch
Rose a familiar animal scent;
The wet muzzle of the hills
Exhaling the warmth of the day.

Ferns and wild fuchsia wept over the bones
Of the creekbed;
The sweet body of the hollow.
Their green flesh torn by grieving fingers,
As the last waters of the melt
Crawled down from the mountain.

Blackwoods and eucalypts formed dark packs
On the ridge, their soft undersides suckling
The wet-mouthed pasture;
Rosy with flowering heath and grasses.
A wild light trembled about us
As the sun sank beneath the trees.