Wattle Trees Whispering
By Myra B
One hundred years ago,
Wattle trees whispered
Whispering the stories, their stories
And the things they have seen
“I have seen much
In my last twenty years
The vast, open land…”
They told me of plains
Wide open plains
Where kangaroos jump
And rivers babble
A time I could scarcely imagine
Of things I would never see
Or hear, or think.
Lastly they said, “and what about now?”
And I thought, long and hard
I looked at my reflection
Hanging in the mirror, looking pale and sad
And I told the ancient land my stories, of my time
Of the cities, the structure, the change.