The mountain knows
I first came here forty years ago
to contemplate.
The mountain already knew the answers
long before I had even asked the questions.
I’m still here asking questions and listening to it,
still listening to the currawongs call
and the leaves lifting.
In that time the saplings have grown tall,
there’s less of a view now.
The silver-grey trunks burnt out over fifty years ago
have finally sprouted new coats.
And we have learned the mountain’s old name: kunanyi.
Down there the little city
like a diorama
is busy with its latest projects and plans.
All the little people rushing about
like you with your money-making ideas
wearing your business clothes, smart phones and frowns.
When you come up here with your tourist proposals
you look so foreign and disturbed
by the mist drifting across,
the colder-than-anticipated temperatures
the trickery of cloud.
Have you noticed the resilience
of Pink Mountain Berry, Snow Daisy or Climbing Blueberry?
Well, you’re only human and destined to forget things.
The mountain watches over us
as we live out our lives in mere decades.
In its ancient shadow, on its tracks
we nod to one another’s passing presence
as its breath brushes our cheeks.
But the mountain has never needed us.
to contemplate.
The mountain already knew the answers
long before I had even asked the questions.
I’m still here asking questions and listening to it,
still listening to the currawongs call
and the leaves lifting.
In that time the saplings have grown tall,
there’s less of a view now.
The silver-grey trunks burnt out over fifty years ago
have finally sprouted new coats.
And we have learned the mountain’s old name: kunanyi.
Down there the little city
like a diorama
is busy with its latest projects and plans.
All the little people rushing about
like you with your money-making ideas
wearing your business clothes, smart phones and frowns.
When you come up here with your tourist proposals
you look so foreign and disturbed
by the mist drifting across,
the colder-than-anticipated temperatures
the trickery of cloud.
Have you noticed the resilience
of Pink Mountain Berry, Snow Daisy or Climbing Blueberry?
Well, you’re only human and destined to forget things.
The mountain watches over us
as we live out our lives in mere decades.
In its ancient shadow, on its tracks
we nod to one another’s passing presence
as its breath brushes our cheeks.
But the mountain has never needed us.
Anne Collins lives in Hobart, Tasmania. She writes poetry and creative non-fiction. She has published five books, her most recent being a poetry collection titled: How to Belong (Ginninderra Press, 2019). She has published many poems and some creative non-fiction pieces that contemplate the natural world. Her book My Friends, This Landscape (2011) was a collection of poetry and prose celebrating the environment in Tasmania. Further information about Anne and her work can be found on her website at www.annecollins.com.au.