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Snow Flowers Fell this Christmas

Snow Flowers fell this Christmas.

In a place you know so well. This place. The Gardens of Stone.
A place what does it mean?
To you and you and you.
WHAT DOES IT MEAN?
Does it mean a thousand things?
Does it mean a thousand songs?
Does it mean a thousand belongs.
To which belong the thousand songs?
Then sing your line your line of song. Sing your song where you belong
Sing your line your line of song
You Songliner. You songliner.

The snow flowers fell this Christmas
But there’s no white cold on the ground,
Those perfumed petals of the tea tree
Fall slowly; Make no sound.

Like tears they dropped so slowly,
From bushes under tall gum trees,
But our hearts were still and saddened
For the people we could not please.

Some people passed the finish
Ran the race of life good and well.
Some just passed by in the morning
And were gone when evening fell.

Some came as colours of the day
In many shades and hue
Some lost their lustre with the storms
Some blended with the dew.

The snow flowers fell this Christmas
But there’s no white cold on the ground
Those perfumed petals of the tea tree
Fall slowly. Make no sound.

The snow flowers fell again today
They lined the tracks and trails
They made carpets of curls In the bush’s wooden burls
Where the fallen flowers sing in vales.

I see the cast of people from the past
Some a short time ago though it did not last
And their memories crowd like faces
From the bushland flower races
And the white tea tree trestles fall like snow.

There’s mothers and grandfathers as they sang in leafy castles
Tones of joy and fun in melody and rhyme
Though they’ve left us unattended
No malice was extended
They are present in the living without time.

Yes as the years roll over
Droughts of tears feed grass and clover
And the pastures keep the wallabies content
So we see and smell the bushland
Where the rock and stone make quick sand,
And we huddle in the shelter of a tent.

The snow flowers fell this Christmas
But there’s no white cold on the ground
Those perfumed petals of the tea tree
Fall slowly. Make no sound.

Yes, Snow Flowers fell this Christmas.

In a place you know so well.
This Place the Gardens of a Stonement.
A place where the rocks and sky fell.

A place what does it mean?
To you and you and you
WHAT DOES IT MEAN?
Have you seen a thousand things?
Do you sing a thousand songs?
Do you know a thousand belongs To which belong the thousand songs?

Then sing your line, your line of song,
Sing your song where you belong.
Sing your line your line of song
You Songliner. You songliner.

Yes, Snow Flowers fell this Christmas.

Wyn Jones November, 2017

The Rock Gardeners

The Rock Gardeners The Gardeners of Stone guard the temples of doom
Where the rocks wind and bend in a mist laden room.
They tender the haven of many a delight
Without trowel or shovel, just stealth in the night.

We are the Gardeners, in the Gardens of Stone
Gardens of treasure, Of nature alone.
Across these pagodas things move every which way,
As nobody intended; so The Gardeners say.

Go silent and walk where the rock daisies grow,
No gardener needed to spread seeds and sow,
It seems like a random scene of colour and style
Nothing out there is in single file.

A visitor coming to see this intricate array
Might at first be alarmed and express utter dismay.
So different a place to the comforts of home
Let’s shine it and mine it and make it our own.

Those pagodas go well with a fountain or two
In a front suburb yard stuck in place with some glue.
And the flowers we’d dig charge the earth for each lot
Make a million a day not a penny would drop
To the slick politicks with their spin doctor spiel
Of sick and crass reasons to break natures wheel.

The Gardeners of Stone guard the temples of doom
Where the rocks wind and bend in a mist laden room.
We are the Gardeners, in the Gardens of Stone
We guard these treasures of nature alone.

There’s plenty to do in these crazy paved places
They need so much attention with so many races
Of abundant green fabrics and cloisters of creatures,
A display of multi dimensional features.

Skinks to tend and swamps to mend with Boronias pink galore,
And cracks in the soil with coal mining spoil
Cast by careless caretakers in muck machine breakers
Who don’t know the strength of their toil.

There’s crazy bike tracks where mad rides make big stacks
Of damaged and derelict cars,
An abandoned contract for the sand in the crack
Leaving dangerous and dungeon like scars.

So these gardens declared they need gardeners who cared
And spared them any more ill.
No more underground sound shaking leaves above ground
Or waters polluted to spill.

The Gardeners of Stone guard the temples of doom
Where the rocks wind and bend in a mist laden room.
We are the Gardeners, in the Gardens of Stone.
We guard these treasures of nature alone. 

Gardeners of Stone how big you have grown
Grown rich and strong in Stone Gardens , These Gardens of Stone,
Do you hear their tone.
YOU ! YOU ! WE ! ARE THE GARDENERS OF STONE
YOU ME AND THEE , ARE THE GARDENERS OF STONE.

The Gardeners of Stone guard the temples of doom
Where the rocks wind and bend in a mist laden room.
We are the Gardeners, in the Gardens of Stone
We guard these treasures of nature alone.

WE ARE THE GARDENERS

THE GARDENERS OF STONE

Wyn Jones
November, 2017

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