Tamed and yet terrifying, the trees entice us
into the darkness of their tortured past.
Birdsong - only to be imagined - past the blast
of urgent, strident, stark, staccato,
and overbearing marriage market of cicada.
But! We are not here to listen, just to see-
See is too poor a word.
See, the immersive glory of the Puio Puio springs.
A shag, oblivious to the mighty blue,
blue prelapsarian splendours dark beneath,
considers and departs,
careless to comprehend such gloriousness.
As we do too, breathless, pictureless.
The waters whorl, we drown, we drown
in ecstasy