There in hills so precious green
I sit covered by white shawl while morning is still night
with stars so plentiful and close
I could gather them with my hand.
And if you listen closely you can
hear the corroboree frogs chanting
along the Snowy mist.
Cold, I settle into my posture.
And a light upon light holds the world
while others in the valley sleep.
What brilliance life can bring away
from cynicism and fear.
