Steppes

There is an unevenness around my feet

a flattened scrub ahead and counting,

thirteen working days. I break the landscape

into segments of ground well covered

through a working life, abandoning

the mounds of steppes traversed,

to people the days with trees. Willow

shelters me in my office- cove,

Moreton Bays confront indifference

and I, in headphone bliss, am leaping

across the shortening plain.

 

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