In memory of Judith Wright
Persistent rain and wind gusts downed
branches, whole trees, electricity fees,
returned a wood fire and candlelight
to prominence. The fire, like passion,
brought warmth to the room. Candle-
light, like memory, gave enough light
to write on the windfalls of that winter
when her eyes became readers with
glasses. Resting on her ears, the glasses’
arms heard of drifting and dendrite
years — its leaves of envy, animosity,
acuity, amity, tapping on her window
on days of denouement or how so.
Is she looking at a windfall kept
for the fire, or seeing a winter’s wrap,
would she dwell on convex and
concave* lenses, place a magnifying
glass on the map staring at her
and write on tracts of eucalyptus
and pine trees, spinifex and ivy,
discover place and pith?