- Standing on
Splendour Rock ,
- encircled by the
Wild Dog Mountains
- we are shot at by
the wind
- and flecked with
rain and sun
- Now Anzac Day runs
down
- through all the
trees
- to the bend in the
Cox
- And there are birds
- in all the space of
the air
- and in place of
bugles
- sounding the
"last post"
- there are currawong calls –
- wild and winsome
flowers of sound
- that rise and bloom
and fall
- Out over far
Kanangra
- Light
swells and flashes
- amongst smoky clouds
- and closer where
sunlight
- bursts on one great
spur ahead
- we image the spirit
moving
-
|
- on the brightness
‑
- the curving ,
shaping spirit
-
that
transforms
-
its
myriad
- trembling forms
- to blue green
- lovelines
- Other walkers stood
- on Splendour Rock
and
-
before
the bugles ordered them
-
to
war.
- Now we stand where
they stood
-
and
where they often must
- have longed to go
-
the Wild Dogs ringed around us
-
and
the Cox's down below
-
-
by
Tom Haylar 1999
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