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A poem for Munibung Hill

PICTURE: Jan Dean – Credit: Flying Island Poetry Community

by Jan Dean

You’re worn down to the word hill.
I can’t resist calling you
a mountain for that special way

it moves my lips and tongue. Elsewhere
you might not rate. Who could guess
you have such credentials?

Part of a volcano, you licked lava, bubbling
from deep within the earth. Perhaps
you swayed to the thunder of dinosaurs.

A sweep of my pencil with a dip
two thirds in at the ridge, just above
those rocks & caves, hidden from view

would draw you from here. Eucalypts
crowd after welcome rain
as if an underground pact murmurs

through their roots: remainders
flourish to compensate for damage
from bulldozers at your base. You

dictate the contours those devils take.
For years I’ve watched you endure
dry winds, fire & torrents. You forgive,

gaze south to our mighty lake, toss
shawls of morning mists
over your shoulder.

Published in: Landscapes Vol 3 Issue 2 Summer 2009 ‘Hydrobotanica’
The Journal of the International Centre for Landscape and Language at Edith Cowan University. Editors Glen Phillips and Andrew Taylor ISSN 1448-0778  /  Munibung Page 48

MMM … Issue 38, June – July 2023