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Home in August

On the train home,

there is a beautiful sky on the cusp of spring.

Intermittent clouds bruised with fire-licks of the setting sun.

The carpark @ Glenfield breaks the cinema.

But behind gum trees and cement branches

you can still see the heart of a living penumbra,

menacing tidal ruins of shipping containers,

bringing song

mournful at the domination of grass

tenacious among dolloped gravel icing

longing for the calm of the moon

to remedy exhausted gawping of people near me.

It passes and the train meanders to where I get off.

In this moment a blazing sun broke the hearts of these passengers

and saw our tombs.

A haven from time

A surprise

Clare L Rolfe © 2023


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