Remember the Wattle
Remember the wattle
when someone opines,
“Southern Australian winter gardens lack colour.”
Wattle’s gold delight is outside suburban frames.
Golden Wattle is rioting on the roadways
and appears in radiant patches of scrubland.
It is gleaming on the perimeters of playgrounds
and it glows while guarding graves and headstones.
Acacia pycnantha sings when cold air currents shift
and boughs may crack in hard rain and lightning shafts.
“Hush, hush, your complaining,” the wattle says,
“I am here with all my furred beads in flower.”
Remember the wattle
bold hued and ringing against slate green feathery leaves.
Wattle’s bright light can melt all chilly hearts
and will open wide the eyes of backyard gardeners.
Waking to harsh cold
I wrap my sister’s soft woollen shawl
up around my shoulders.
Presiding at the foot of our marital bed
its lawn of Indian sequins and threads
spins jaunty colours about the room.
This shawl’s warmth enfolds me
with all the poised artistry
my sister once displayed.
Katherine Healy has published poetry, short fiction and creative non-fiction. She gained her Master of Letters in Creative Writing from Central Queensland University, is a member of the South Australian Writers’ Centre, and currently has a historical novel as a work-in-progress.
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