Dream

At the top of the hill,
Red soil beneath your feet,
Through crisp dry air
You can see each separate leaf
In the blanket of gum trees
Rolled out before you.

Dark blue waters of the Tasman
Spread from North to South,
Through air so clear
You can see the crest of each wave
On the horizon.

The sky above,
Vital, deep, piercing,
Expands all around;
On the hill
At the top of the world
Exposed, held down by nothing,
You reach out and dream.