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Markings 194

Country Christmas Morning

Three trees on the broken hill's face

bare now for brown and rock

the road that winds out in ungraded

heat from half past five

silence on the wire fence-line

sheep that shelter in each other's shade

pool after pool

filled with the tricks of eye and light

a slow church bell for early Mass

like gunshot down the ranges

the small crush and crowd

of six or seven dust-baked farm cars

crows that chorus from a gravel gradient

- always the same for any birth.

Jeff Guess

©Jeff Guess 2018

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