Falls, Basket Swamp,
Boonoo Boonoo National Park
A gurgle, a trickle, a whispering whoosh,
sips at your spirit.
Cold, clear, gushing, over, around, down giant lizard-grey granite.
A warning wind roars up the gorge.
Desperate fire tempered she-oaks, teeter, cling.
Rock sitting, late summer sun, spray-thick breath,
something tugs you to the edge.
Far south-east, green ranges collide.
Underfoot, flatweed flower, crevice defying,
your being hears, feels, listens to …
everything fades, silence,
a stretched second of nothing.
This capillary, this vein, this artery,
this life-blood …