It’s no burden for a mountain to bear:
the weight of observatories ever watching
the night sky; reservoirs
that replenish in a constant routine
the water supply for a greedy city;
theatres of learning for a university.
The long, slow climb up the road
on a bike, past land denuded
by fire of quick-growing radiata,
past remaining stands of resistant
Canary Island pines, leads to a summit
with views to the west of undulating
mountains and ridge lines; to the east,
suburbs buried beneath green;
and to the north, land ripped clear
of vegetation for new developments.
Look down the slopes to a leisure centre
for swimming and exercise, and all those trails
that carry the exhilaration
of downhill flights on mountain bikes.
Stromlo sleeps on, despite the activity
on the surface, a sombre silhouette
in the evening sky.
lives in Canberra, Australia. His haiku appear in various Australian and international journals, including Presence, cattails, and The Heron’s Nest. His longer poetry appears in more than fifty journals, including The Goodlife Review, Rappahannock Review, Penumbra Literary and Art Journal, Passengers Journal, Reed Magazine, Meniscus, and Quadrant.
