By Greg Wilson
Beneath a tree
Sunshine warm on our backs
A lush green hue pervades the conversation
We agree, this is a gentle forgiving land.
The hills with the remnants of their cloak
Standing guard as of long ago
Watching the rivers, the coast
Borders of the riches stretched redolent in the sun.
We agree, on this at least
If ever there was a place where work has a reward
Then it is here.
Those before left their mark for us
As guide or warning
Be it a people, a generation, a field or a garden
A spear, a plough or a derrick
Which side of the tree we stand determines our view.
We agree, about the tree
Let it stand, for it was here before us all.