Last of the Coot-tha Sunsets

West of my day's circle*, I watched the sky fill up and spill over,
Each ending the day's re-birth, unlike any that came before, or after.



Part of my heart's country, framing my days. The morning's
Gentle seep, humid evenings weighty with anticipation.



West of my day's circle, held in the mind's eye, my mountain lies
Watching quietly, cloaked in low cloud and my memory

* with apologies to Judith Wright