Through this corroding forest,  
a thin snake winds soundlessly
between stiff marram grass.

Over time, the constant brackish wind sculpts,
drifts / scaling the metal shanks
shackled to their own shape-shifting shadow.

Steadfast in scorched sand, forty or more as one,
tilt towards the ocean,
reflecting conflict between water and earth.

We are not in tune with their deep veined histories
nor elemental transformation.
We do not propound to understand their language.



copyright © Caroline Grace 2012