Landscape & a girl

   around these clay creased basins
trees lie white & weathered

alive they roar like surf
& in the hearth crackle

   moths strike against the window
my glass is empty
but I cannot get up
& disturb your soliloquy

   merino hoggets skip over the hill after shearing
we leant on the rail your hand bag dangling

 men waved from the wharf
where you mused staring at water
that sad bright eyed woman
& onion flowers

   we parted & I had talked too much
& hardly held your hand
for fear the butterfly
might emerge too soon
falling in flight

1966