THE PINE - ING
I have seen them - - -
these foreign ones,
Marching relentlessly in ordered ranks
across our hills.
Jagged silhouettes piercing a blind sky.
Impassively advancing over a wasted land
of shattered limbs and blossom tousled crowns,
a sacrifice to burning fire,
The defenceless soft eyed innocents
Never to return to poisoned ground.
blue-grey bushland clings uneasily on far ridges,
fluttering a fragile banner of truce,
purest white, heartblood crimson,
and new-coined gold,
Offering unimaginable treasure - - -