Lonely Eucalypt

[Mal McLean]

Lonely Eucalypt.
©M M Beveridge Sept 2012

The eucalypt stands like a question mark
upon the stark crest of the hill
and gone is the sense of its siblings bark
and gone is the shy mud larks shrill.

A square frame of timbers is rising there
beside the black rivers of tar
with brick tile and mortar and builders square,
four beds and a room for a car.

Surveyors white pegs are now deep in ground
that three times by ten thousand years
was home for the forest and midden mound;
a soak for the proud natives tears.

Where once were great bunya’s and mountain ash
and later the ironbark stood,
the feature stands out like a facial gash,
though strangely, ’tis still framed with wood.

The forest that breathed, as the lungs of earth,
exhaling the essence for men,
is forest no more and of no real worth;
‘twas felled by the stroke of a pen.

[Dennis N O'Brien]

A good read - well written Mal.

[Maureen K Clifford]

Don't you just hate seeing that happen? I know I do. Good write Mal - should be displayed in every local council chambers IMO. Food for thought for those that are yet to come.

Cheers

Maureen