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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