God’s Prophet

Catherine Wright


Kurrajong on the Edge, Oxley Wild Rivers


There’s no morning on that slope, east

against the day, all granite’s flat

tree-crotchets of staccato in the dim.


One abuts a boulder; trunk slim

bark reptile-tight, a sinew strained

between the gristly eucalypts.


And far from grey! A crown

of lusty lime, quill-tipped

finger kisses with each waft.


Amid the arid, olive gums, this teen

in green looks on across the hollow

to the light, where vast-limbed


Grandmother stands squat

clinched and struck, her Moses

staff into the deep, cleaved


through stone. Alone, folioles drop

in copper clatter, gnarled arms retreat

with April’s moisture from the slope.


In language of the ages

– quartz-sap, tap-root, lace-bark –

She’s sending messages


by lyre bird, fungi filament

quoll, nomadic Silvereye

Rosella, Figbird, Oriole.


Maybe by that slate-dark Euro

tip-toed, tail in tripod then

languorous beneath the leaves


or on some ancient breeze;

a millennial shimmer, rainforest

glimmer. God’s prophet


of vestal woodlands, sounding

through the lipped abyss and

down to the scourging sea.



Catherine Wright’s poems and creative non-fiction have won or been shortlisted for a number of awards, and been published in literary journals and anthologies in Australia and overseas. She is finishing her first collection ‘The Consolation of Birds’, and finds inspiration especially in the natural world and it’s power over us. Catherine lives in Armidale, NSW.
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