Last Light on the Great Divide

By | 31 October 2021

As the day dusks, the bald foothills flare
with purple-orange light. The moon hangs low
above the mountains, and between them mauve
smoke pulls daylight’s flesh from night’s spine.

The plains are bare except for sedge and torqued
gums. Cockatoos screech, those punks of the bush,
demanding more of the light. Between what was
and what will come, a liminal dreamscape,

no, a night terror. The Broken River’s dammed
belly bulges at Lake Nillahcootie, digesting
the skeletons of flood-drowned red gums. Earth
still carries all that has been cleared away.

The sun plunges and is gone. The cool breath
of night descends and the land shivers.

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