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Cradle mountain

Cradle mountain - The twin deities

At close of day, I am in a hill house secret,
secreted in a room with lamplight, Latin primer and fatigue,
Another hill, far greater, massive shouldering it's
way onto the earth, unfurling the horizon,
disturbing the crust, engaging the locked admiration
of millions, for millennia.

Then, before that, before us, before all the fauna,
before the soft flourish of vegetation,
the melting of glacial slow time into rivers and lake,
gave it the first mirror with which to look down
upon itself, cold, grey, austere in the morning,
warm forgiving and flushed in the summer evenings,
both goddess and god, of everything,
in this neighbourhood,
now-
Stolen through lens and flaring processions of people,
She and he stand, I see them
as God, Goddess of the postcard pristine,
but when we're not looking,
they are snickering indifferent
in the high top winds that brush their mantel,
their arms outreached to us across the lake,
beckoning us to come and look,
on eternity.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
OK - not quite gone, packing up desk and last of the books, computer, ready for moving soon - but.. squeezed in a brief trip to Cradle mountain in Tasmania recently, this was one of the things, scribbled in my notebook. :)
Editing stage: 

Comments

I took a canoe on that lake in January and it is surely on of the magic moments of my life. Thanks for your great landscape poem.

Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

Have been away for a bit..finally moved, everything is still in boxes (including your accumulating pile!) - this is more of an impression to keep my eye in, less a focus on technique, or anything too serious. But, yes, it is truly a magical spot, and a canoe on that lake..oh! That sounds like a great idea..

Thanks.

Chris.

Chris Hall - Tasmania

Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince's stores and bumped them up on the brewery float. On the brewery float bumped dullthudding barrels rolled by grossbooted draymen out of Prince's stores.

author comment

I love these lines...

but when we're not looking,
they are snickering indifferent

is that the sound of the wind hurtling down valleys , the sounds of snickering indifferent mountains?
I'm going to think so from now on!

Having just been to some mountains I saw them in a similar light. Both God and Godesses, full of monsters and stories, time layering, I felt a little overwhelmed in their presence.
Mountains rock!! (sorry, I just had too...!)

Hard! There you go ..pun returned..:)

Yes, it is a very special place,
Winds do whistle and whisper,
hold the secrets of a thousand generations before.

i have a lot of very special memories about that place.

Thank you, for stopping by Scatter!

Take care,

Chris

Chris Hall - Tasmania

Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince's stores and bumped them up on the brewery float. On the brewery float bumped dullthudding barrels rolled by grossbooted draymen out of Prince's stores.

author comment
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