Andrew James Whalan

Poet. Storyteller.

After the bushfire (a lamentation)

Ahead the greyed road snakes sideways Sunlight dappled left and right plays With the greens of the forest until Dark falls : a bushfires boundary of black. We drive into a grey smoke shadowed forest Peopled by charcoaled trees and deadened branches Silence between us until we reach the town Where there was not a stone upon a stone.
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