John B. Fairfax, AO
A season can change you
Like a lost wallet
As you sit sipping wine
Drowning thoughts in sunsets.
A season is four things as are we
Dry or wet, hot or cold.
Sometimes all elements are grouped
In one day, in one room.
You follow a season like whales or birds
Heavy in thought, weightless in dreams.
Then you escape it.
Seeking peace in a crocodile's eye
Until it moves you - shit scared.
A season brings light then dark
Never at the same hour
Bewitching with subtle tones
Taunting with smiles then frowns.
A season is green, white, golden, ochre.
It changes, and changes us.
A season's tears invade the land
Then sunlight mocks our spirits.
Lightning strikes - a stock-whip sound
On a buffalo's black.
All hope is burnt, but we come alive.
The Jabiru flies.