Waxflower (September)

Small white flowers, one cluster. Three together deck leaf axils. Life the living stem musters. Nothing the big bang excels. Unpotted, planted six years ago. Patterns on hillsides seed instils. Time, that is fast, slow. Clouds leave leaves leave leaves. Holidayers February September come, go. Winter how the wood weaves. Hard dark, clear secret days. To earth and air cleaves. Surf distant thunder rolling greys. Scrubwrens, firetails peck and peek. Wye is its springtime phase. Rainfall is a million creeks. One day, overnight, galaxies appear. White buds, light flesh, speak. Entering the vastness without fear. Pushing the edges without fluster.