Another from the Recovery poems.
The creek is still here
skeleton bush returns bit by bit
but the swinging tree of the waterhole
is gone.
The tiny blue trimmed butterflies hide
with the dandelions
gold and brown ones nestle deep into the green grass
capturing them with camera leaves them free to fly.
Why do some children take the red nets
and break the wings of such beauty,
why can’t they let them be?
Two friends sit at a round table
discussing Emily Dickinson
and how she had to speak to others
from another room.
She needed so much room to write her words
still she hid them away
Butterflies hiding in the grass
sing of Emily
and wonder what she would have
made of cyclones.
(c) Word and images June Perkins
After Yasi 