Korowall (Mt Solitary)
Land of the Gundungurra
This poem, and my photos, are from the Blue Mountains just West of Sydney.
Korowall
It’s true –
you are closer to the clouds up here;
dew point is always near;
there is always something
condensing around you,
coalescing with the view,
making itself new amongst
all these old things.
Old tracks and trees
and weathered sandstone
sifting through the sun,
teasing out the substance of light into
this orange, that yellow, the other grey.
Your time here is shallow as the morning
and as permanent as the clouds forming
above Burragorang.
There is nothing
you can say of this
to remain when you have gone;
only the simple statements
that this rock was warm,
that the wind blew,
the sun shone…..
Note: All photos - me.
Dew point: the temperature and humidity at which the air can no longer hold water as a gas, so droplets begin to form and dew, fog, or cloud appears….
How beautifully you have talked about something that someone else might spend a minute to take in and most probably forget. But not a poet. No, not you. I love this kind of poetry, Dave. Reminds me so much of David Whyte - your name sake too! Simply marvelous in its grace.
I love the photos and your evocative poem traveling from/through permanence and impermanence, the light, wind, and what remains♥️