Lost Winter Hiding Places. Poem by Geoffrey Fafard

So why do you hide up
There in those tropic hills
Daintree wilds, Windsor ridges
Lost valleys, ancient valleys of
Rainforests on the remote Cape
Well ‘Ol mate these places call me
Especially now in winter
Winter in the north its- well
Different than other winters
———
Cassowaries sing their
Forest songs along with
Babbling unnamed streams
My old black dog knows these songs
And sits in the clear cool water
Looking up at the tree tops
I don't see many dogs do that
She assumes all birds fly
A small snake glides past her
It makes me smile
Baby Jungle perch
Nibble on your fingers
As you sit in the cool winter water
My idea of winter so green
And gently inviting
———
Yet so close is so remote
The road in is terrible and beautiful
Keeping most out
It's not a drive that will
Tolerate mistakes or inattention
I like it this way and hope it
worsens leaving this wilderness
As wilderness that I jealously guard
You see there is so little left
But you know I would always
Take you there with delight if it
Meant as much to you as
It does to me.