A recent poem from Ron Fletcher, on his website Foolhardyflorilegium.

Many days I wandered where the Snowgums reach the sky

I’ve tramped across those open Plains in snow and tinder-dry

High up in the mountains, where the twisted Snowgum grow

And for many months it’s covered; all blanketed in snow

The peaks are hid, the gullies filled; a frozen world of light

The sun beats down from up above and burns up from the white

And the frozen land and ice-cold air oppose this twofold heat

To make a world of wild extreme; sweating brow and frozen feet

A land that’s sometimes upside down; when storm clouds boil below

Then a wise man knows that to stay safe, it’s time for him to go

For the sunshine can be driven off and your world can turn to white

Then the flying snow and freezing wind can steal away all sight

A map and compass is not much good when landmarks all are lost

And then to stay out in that blizzard could mean the ultimate cost

But the wise are long-since settled into a warm cabin or a tent

To sit it out and await the end of this storm that’s heaven sent

But this same land, in the summer, is a spectre-ridden haze

Where a man can throw a pack on and wander free for days

There the only things freer are Hawks, up high in the air

Their eyes seek the prey they know is hidden there

Deep down in the Heathland, where small creatures abide

The Hawks wait their chance as air currents they ride

With more skill than the skiers who oft glide below

These skiers of the sky ski the wind slopes they know

While far below in trails so fine, tiny Antechinus run

And a solitary Snow Daisy desperately seek the sun

It’s places like these that we can find your soul

And walks the trails that make us feel whole

Each footfall a journey on a quest with no end

just a new revelation at each hilltop or trails bend

So I’ll walk on those paths every chance I get

If that path has end, then I’ve not found it yet

Even today I tramp those paths in my mind

But try as I might I don’t know what I’ll find

On the Bogong High Plains; a spiritual learning

And a secret desire, in my heart always yearning