Late afternoon
I gaze upon soft clouds tinged golden by day's last sun
And think on things.
The rasp of the hadedah
Bringing memories of warm winter days Under Milkwood
A time of carefree youth as children splash in the shallow waters of low tide
The lagoon glittering in day's last sun.
The cool breeze of early summer
Salt laden and the hoot of the train sweeping over the crossing
Past the station that's no more.
The warmth of the rocks on our backs
Up on the mountain behind our childhood home
Unchanged for eons.
The aroma of lamb wafting from the kitchen
Mother's domain and source of favourite foods
Some no more.
Birds chattering as they seek their roost
Day's dying rays glowing on innocent upturned faces
Watching the eternal horizon.
Golden days.
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