The forces of the natural world snickered into the wind
Untroubled, in their unworried infinity
And something in the wickering boughs and stooping reeds suggested pity.
Piously carrying on, all their defences holstered.
We reach to scream, they reach to breathe.
Out there, beyond the rush of the falls,
The train was due in 60 minutes
the heave of the wood scarcely cared.

- composed on April 11 2020, Springwood, NSW