Into the Wonnangatta - Halloween 2019
Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Unsplash
Grey sky above snow grass plain. Muggy wind
Blows across endless trees, stretching horizons.
Jinxed already this weekend, pacing across country
We pivot between All Hallows and All Souls Eve.
Descending, air chills, scrub tears our knees.
Fallen figures, limbs broken and leaves tangled
Litter the ground where we must clamber, climb, push––
Picking our way down the faint footpad.
Then rain. Drops slow at first, but already
Big, engorged, deeply wetting. These heavy hits
Clatter my clothing. Drenching wind roars.
Rushing, racing weather curtains me.
At the road, wind and rain become gale. Cars pass,
Pale faces stare, warm behind closed windows as I chill.
Grotesque, grinning, they laugh at my drips and shivers like
Tormenting demons in a wild, wet landscape.
Turning from the road, the last kilometre
Forces tired legs over the hill. I trip over branches,
Slip on stones that roll and slide, and stumble to the creek.
It swells with water, but somehow sings a softer song.
Beyond, a clearing, lurid green, a spot for tents.
Rain still drums my skull, skin trickles, feet squish in wet boots, but
Soulful soggy-scented earth fills my nose. A feather-touch of comfort,
A caress as the pack drops from my draining body.
Then we piece shelter together. Eight hands for each tent,
Our speed and skill thwarting rain. Laughing we push demons away.
With home and hearth re-made, we peel wetness from our skin,
And sleep safe and warm in this underworld.
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