Christina Coates

And the day is ending.
The heat that sucks up all the air
sucks in again and out;
at last is gone. The wind returns
chasing the red hot day,
stampeding the dry fields to ground.
A strange mob of panting
trees, towering green blue-gums hide,
drop their gaunt sad faces
melting in long swags. They gasp grey
breaths of stinking resin;
the only sound; all day the heat.

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