On The Write Path

Gardens of Melbourne

Through early Autumn I am walking like an old man, yellowing leaves mocking my thinning grey hair, trees festooning themselves with color. Am I like a leaf on the tree of humankind, worn out by the seasons, ready to fall to the ground? A week before my birthday I am walking into crisp shade wondering what's forborne. The brick guttered path leads to forgotten graves of those who were moved from this land. Who remembers? Sunshine mixes with melancholy as two men stride past the birdchirp and the incessant murmur of traffic from afar. Past the statue of Victoria Regina, past King George himself, there's more garden beckoning. I get up to explore.

         after leaf-fall
         winter's waiting

© Kåre Enga 12.abril.2015. Melbourne, Victoria, Australia.