Something to do with trees

We knew it was right when
we arrived, in the immediacy
of alighting from the car a feeling
of warm sentiment invaded,
sustaining the comforting years.

And when we’ve been away
in the other wilderness
it greets us with the same
veracity as it did
on that first day.

I don’t know exactly
what it is, I have tried
to find a theme, maybe
in the symphony of bird calls
ringing the redolent air,

in magical views of ancient rocks jutting
spectacularly from Glasshouse plain – hedged
in perfect bush-clad ranges echoing
the pervasive, subliminally trumpeted
flair of ethereal quiet.

Or perhaps it is something to do with trees and
their uncritical silence, the overwhelming sense
of security; something to do with trees whose
nearness is an affectionate, ever-mutual embrace,
reaffirmation we belong here.
© I.D. Carswell