Writing in the bay of a fig comes easy - they
are the kindest trees, clean of limb & shady,
and lyrically free with a breeze in them; say
what you will about ‘rustle and roar’ of more
than a thousand eucalypts plus jacaranda’s
restoring equity after the purple debut - but
few fail to be impressed with that eclipse of
visual grandeur - yet the fig outlasts ‘em all
So it’s in respect of this we state these figs
grace us with their tall and regal splendour,
obeying call of the sun - lilt of the wind, and
swaying in a ‘queenly’ way - gently allaying
discordancy from the susurrations Westerly
unease flurries within our disordered trees
© 23 May 2015, I. D. Carswell
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