Dune Grass

Oh the Marram Grass so firm before

the violent waves that raise-crash ashore

and carve in the sand a delicate rose

of the coming of the wind – and how it goes

and scratches just like a seismograph

a record of just how the wind gusts laugh

and leap between blades shimmering

and play, reverberating, glimmering.

Oh what a charge to nurture flowers gay

and spread in the sun day after day

and night after night below the milky stars

send pale racimes out-reaching far

towards the sea that ashore angry foams

and the rising sun’s warming golden gloam.

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