Across the rippling lake,
Beyond the island necklace,
Rising imperiously over manicured hills,
Cascades of billowing clouds drift,
Sun-dipped to slate shades commingle
Creating shifting phantom shapes
Or bodies in postures of repose,
Allowing mortal thoughts to float,
A fleeting escape from reality
And day-to-day anxieties
That ambush and snare our dreams.

Eleanor Kidd, Port Sydney

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