Bellevue Hill – Jeremy Gadd

Feeling overcast and grey like the weather,

I trudge, tired of city life and of swallowing

bitter pills, wet and dejected up Bellevue Hill,

the harbour dull molten metal to my left,

undulating ocean to my right.

Matching my melancholy mood,

doleful clouds accumulate and coalesce

to form a leaden-hued layer above me

and the moist, glistening, red tiled

roofs of the constantly expanding suburbs.

Squalls sweep along the eastern horizon,

their dark columns a colonnade

connecting the dome of the sky to the sea.

Leaves, like flags too tired to wave

or without a cause worth unfurling for,

hang languidly in the oppressive humidity.

It feels as if all is in abeyance;

as though Time has tired of the enormity

of its task and paused to rest and recuperate.

Drizzle drifts and is caught in the net

of my hair and, as a waterspout briefly

towers off shore, I look out over

the raindrop bejewelled undergrowth,

at the damp, dark-barked and

rain-wreathed dripping trees and,

listening to the distant warbling call

of a currawong, feel, for an

overwhelming fraction of a second,

privileged, grateful and humble to have

experienced this inspirational view I see –

this minuscule moment in eternity.

© Jeremy Gadd 1997

Published FreeXpresSion (Australia) Volume VI, 3/4/1999.