Things fall away


 

the moment a tree

consoles with its rooted

 

stem that

stands and asserts what

you also bear

 

toward

the coherence of earth.

A mutual ken

 

crosses species      between

things that travel

and things that stay

 

in place. Leaves

give wind

its multiple voice

 

as they shift

your long recollection

of a soul’s green

 

night. You are again

a girl. Skip

Skip

 

Skip the tor

on the pavement.                 Hop

Hop

 

Hop over chalked

lines. You retreat

from old need.

 

A dog rests

     her head in your

     lap. A magpie

 

seems to know

how you feel

about song.

 

 

 

 
 

Anne Elvey

Anne Elvey is a poet, editor and researcher, living on unceded Bunurong Country. Her most recent poetry collections are Leaf (Liquid Amber Press, 2022) and Obligations of Voice (Recent Work Press, 2021). “Intents” is forthcoming with Liquid Amber Press in 2025. Anne holds honorary appointments at Monash University and University of Divinity, Naarm/Melbourne. https://sunglintdrift.com/

More by Anne Elvey ›

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