The cold is upon us.
For a season we will shiver in jumpers,
under grey skies and this year’s all too intermittent rain.
While the golden blooms of wattles
remind us of the brilliance of the summer sun,
whose warmth we speak of with longing.
For on those days the sun does appear
it hangs low in the sky and all too quickly
forsakes us for northern latitudes.
Yet slowly and surely the balance swings
as today the dark reaches its zenith.
From now we turn towards expanding light
and in time the sun will return in full force.
Scorching fields brown and
drying out creeks, so that water
is but a memory held in their stone beds.
Then we will long for these days of cold and rain.