Newbridge, New South Wales
When Constancy’s rain drops die as the clouds are lighter and resting.
When the gums ombre brown shades peel off delivering silver skin.
And with leaning limbs out to bespoke green tips I have been given.
Strangers stand out; imposters wearing a garish glow; Mistletoe.
When our village is tucked just below the lightly laced cloud-line
That is machining a hint of snow cones,
It’s chemistry who thanks the wind for her absence.
Until her Antarctic blast brings the crucial chill
then even stillness
then the sprinkling snow.
There is no sound only an eye to outside witnesses the even fall.
When lichen enclose my house I will return.
When I die I will.
Bio: Right now Myfanwy doesn’t feel she can sit in a paddock and take in all of nature but this is what she took in a little while ago whilst driving her car. She has touched it up a little and with some conclusions and not necessarily well connected thoughts she feels it gives plenty to ponder. Next time she promises she will get closer.