The Low-lying Lands

The lowlands beckon with 
cultivated fields, water 
sprinklers, neat modern gardens 
in complacent suburbs - 
all respectfully lit by 
a tranquil evening sun.

Our journey almost done we 
are drawn inexorably 
along shining rails to 
a squat town 
and our part in it.

I grimace and
ask for sympathy - a
cold shrug and tired
eyes tell me
not to be indulgent - like
a child - and
bear my task, adult
and adequate, for

all will be well, all 
manner of things 
will be well in the 
low-lying lands minus 
outcrops and cliffs, sheer 
falls, gulls 
and a testy sea.

Here is Perth, well- 
satisfied and south 
replete with its own 
tourists on a journey 
from their homes - the

rails interconnect now,
busily, the intricacies of a city's arms
reaching even this far
to grasp us
and pull us in.

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