1 min read
Слушать(AI)Late Spring
The moon drained white by day lifts from the hill where the old pear-tree fallen in storm springs up in blossom still.
Women believe in the moon: this branch I hold is not more white and still than she whose flower is ages old, and so I carry home flowers from the pear that makes such obstinate tokens still for fruit it cannot bear.
Judith Wright
Judith Arundell Wright (31 May 1915 – 25 June 2000) was an Australian poet, environmentalist and campaigner for Aboriginal land rights. She was
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
South Of My Days
South of my days' circle, part of my blood's country,rises that tableland, high delicate outlineof bony slopes wincing under the winter,low trees, blue-leaved and olive, outcropping granite-clean, lean, hungry country The creek's leaf-silence...
Train Journey
Glassed with cold sleep and dazzled by the moon,out of the confused hammering dark of the trainI looked and saw under the moon's cold sheetyour delicate dry breasts, country that built my heart;and the small trees on their uncoloured slopelike poe...
Trapped Dingo
So here, twisted in steel, and spoiled with redyour sunlight hide, smelling of death and fear,they crushed out your throat the terrible songyou sang in the dark ranges With what cryingyou mourned him - the drinker of blood, the swift dea...
The Killer
The day was clear as fire,the birds sang frail as glass,when thirsty I came to the creekand fell by its side in the grass My breast on the bright mossand shower-embroidered weeds,my lips to the live waterI saw him turn in the reeds Black...