Big Sky

Charcoal smudge
and ochre-stained cotton buds line the open eye
scanning ghost grey and brown wrinkled skin.
Hopeful tears explode;
white tears evaporate in the silence of the day;
in every way
the earth whispers retreat into evening grace.
Wide ground opens arms
as far as sight can be.
Trust gathers memories.
Hand-in-hand wander
to sky,
to cloud, to sky.

Published by Matthew Pullar

Teacher, writer, blogger, husband, father, Christian. Living in Wyndham in Melbourne's west, on the land of the Kulin Nation. Searching for words to console and feed hearts and souls.

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