Remembering Hobart

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the slow sea returns
upon the river meshing
with salt tide the stream
from hops and apple crops

come back baby
back into my arms

bringing with you fish and sand
the salt wind and the long tide’s turn
returning
in a flow of mud and anchor chains
flapping ropes sails tightening
water and brine

red soil and burning
bracken     trees
gash grey hills with flame
corn for harvest crosses
in waves
winter is coming lonely
patches of snow black
wet branches

come back sun
break on river break
in gold waves on land
break with the abundance of your hair
in my hand

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