I admire those who can do the spontaneous snapshot verses. This week, with
sad unspontaneity, I offer this: a Saturday image:
The Old Aqueduct Trail
The winding aqueduct
on the hillside shadowed by pines
was long since made derelict,
succumbing to wild green growth
splitting the concrete.
The trail winding alongside
is sealed smoothly for joggers,
cyclists and dog-walkers
breathing hygienic pine aromas.
Just walking beside
a dry watercourse
one senses pathos,
intensified by the drought.
Elsewhere the day might
be scorching, but here
filtered by the old pines
patterned more dark than light.
Strollers, as if sharing
much, smile real smiles.
Dogs meet dogs decorously,
or sighting a slow rabbit
lollop after it
like players, not hunters.
Here is a place to ponder
onešs neglect of a friend
now in hospital,
immobilised
in pain and uncertainty.
The long drought broke;
today water stands
in lengthy stretches or moves
slowly forwards as if
seeking the long-lost reservoir.
7.00am Wednesday September 3, 2003
Max Richards, North Balwyn, Melbourne
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