Don't Fret When I've Left Poem by Adrian Flett

Don't fret when I've left or seek me there.
I'll be here.

I'll be lying under a rocky ceiling
looking at a shaded polychrome eland.
Seek me where clay courts hold my rapt attention
and a tennis ball will follow my every intention.
As the eye builds behind a river worn rock
and the muse flows slowly drop on drop
seek me there where it starts to flow,
follows the tide of the stream as it goes.
Seek me where often I used to dream
down the valley at that special stream.
Seek me where the breeze bears scents
from the high mountains sent.
I'll be watching the flow in the leat
rushing down where waters meet.
I'll be at the lip of the fall were water unwilling to leave
splashes, hovers and argues with gravity's heave.
Those waves want to stay though inevitably know
as they dive into misty spray, they need to go.
Seek me where the shadow of the blue gum falls,
that tree has history to tell; much to recall.

Where the path bends gently over the hill
I'll be out there viewing still;
despite all those intervening fronds
that obscure from view, the curve of the mons.
Seek me where the sun shaft rays
catch dewdrops in rainbow coloured displays.
Seek me as the moon, obliged to soar
in the east raises its generous orb,
argent with her work to be done
at going down of our faithful sun.

25/08/2019