03 January 2020

Smoke


A pall descended on St Kilda 
has bleached the high summer day.

White cirrus floats in a white sky
on a breeze from the east – Gippsland ablaze.

The scent of wood smoke appals
stealing through the summer night
in at the window from the burning forest.

Out of control the bushfires
burn the country down.
Animals scream to extinction

and the trees and the trees and the towns
Mallacoota, Mago, Cobargo
melted into the ground.

I cannot stand the scent of a winter hearth
and a billion creatures dead in agony.

I cannot count the cost of a hard heart
that loves a lump of coal more than a planet.

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