acts of resistance

1. arms wide we lift
our faces to the rain
laughing at the sky
as it soaks us.

2. low sun
across the forest hill
has stalked between the trees
to find me here
mosquito swatting
hip deep and golden in coriander
snapping the bristle stalks
of marrows as thick as my arm.
sticky as summer

3. there are worlds layered
between the stars and
where i stand on the deck
waiting for night to claim me.

4. in over 800 years
this tree
has never once
stopped being a tree.
even on sundays when
the sky breaks
against the mountains and we
gasping at the chest rumbling
wonder of smiting gods
lay our thankful hands
on her crag moss trunk.
even then,
with her crown
to the cracked sky
our shining faces alive
with falling rain,
unwavering
she whispers,
tree.

5. some days all that is asked of you
is to lie amongst the arching grass stalks.
to be here on the hillside.
to breathe.

6. it was easier
to lift
francesca the goat
full pregnant
and playing
sack of potatoes
onto the shearing platform
to trim her wondrous curls
before the birth
than it was to delete an ap
on my, trying to be smarter
than i, phone.
though truth be told
goats are smellier
than instagram.

6. it is not a metaphor
rain really does fall.

WhatsApp Image 2018-01-22 at 14.42.24 (2)
Woodville big tree. Photograph by Tamarisk-Ray Glogauer

Strategy

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