Things fall away


the moment a tree

consoles with its rooted


stem that

stands and asserts what

you also bear



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 the tor

on the pavement.                 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 author of White on White (Cordite Books 2018), Kin (FIP 2014) and, with Massimo D’Arcangelo and Helen Moore, co-author of Intatto-Intact (La Vita Felice 2017). She is editor of hope for whole: poets speak up to Adani (Rosslyn Avenue Productions 2018), and managing editor of Plumwood Mountain.

More by Anne Elvey ›

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