Sleeping Out

Lay my bed in soft dry grass,
On the dependable earth.
Make my blankets reassuring lambswool,
And my sheets, sun-kissed cotton.
My bedroom, a hill-top,
And my window the star-filled skies.
Let me hear the sweet music of the breeze,
As it plays 'piano' on the leaves,
With the accompaniment of nocturnal animals,
Rustling about their business unobserved.
Let the fresh wholesome scents of air and earth,
Waft gently into my olfactory recesses,
And lull me into rejuvenating sleep,
'Neath the trustworthy radiance of the moon.
Let me lie unmolested,
By any troubles of mind or spirit,
But go in and out of restful dreams.
Until the coolness of the predawn awakens me,
And I may greet the day.

The Hill

The afternoon sun grazes my hill with a bright orange brush.
And brings out the tri-layers of this tree-clad cake.
My paddocks below are in shade now,
As the sun makes its steady descent.

But my hill-cake shines on.
The snow gums on the top-most layer, the icing,
Are a sparkling silver greyish green.
Below them, the white trunks of Alpine Ash,
Are wearing curly wigs of a greener-green,
They're still sparkling.

And as I compose this poem,
The Messmates and Peppermints,
That make the lowest tier,
Are slowly darkening into a deeper green shadow.