The Echoes Ricochet
The Australian Bush.
There’s a certain kind of symmetry,
Scenes sharper than a blade,
Before my eyes the imagery,
The magic light and shade.
Sunlight peeps from the East,
And weaves her magic light,
The beauty of the day released,
Much to my delight.
Out amongst the gum trees,
A million miles away,
Breathing in the morning breeze,
A beautiful display.
The morning call of a bird,
The echoes ricochet,
Music to my ears I’ve heard,
In the hills out Jerrong way.
My coat and scarf and walking shoes,
The scent of eucalypt,
I don’t listen to the morning news,
Nor think about the script.
Waters mirrored by the sky,
A place of pure reflection,
Where the placid mirrors lie,
New views from each direction.
I walk and weave between the trees,
Barks marked in greys and greens,
I stop and pop a pic to freeze,
These ever-changing scenes.
As I climb back up the hill,
And hear my breath increase,
I emerge from the morning chill,
And feel perfectly at peace.
©
David Rudder
2024
Thank you for reading this piece and my poetry.
