The Disturbance

Serrated spires of rendered rhyolite

that brashly spur and scrape the soaring skies.

Resplendent sentinels replete with might,

a muse of dreams and ancient lullabies.

But grieve the wrathful slides of land,

disastrous plagues of hurtling rock and mire.

Courageous kurrajongs that lend a hand

must bow before the heat of summer fire.

But worse, the severed eucalyptus, split,

hewn gonocarpus hacked apart and slashed,

ravaged by grinding teeth and whirring chains.

Dammed rivers, crippled fences, loosened rocks

and tourists clambering, chaos in their veins.

Why anguish over material things,

but mourn the balance lost and nature's pain.