Judith Wright - Moving South lyrics

“It will be cold where you are going.” Yes. Working today in this subtropical green summer extravagance, cutting back fleshy stems, smelling steam-scented gardenias I think of winter. Last night a chained dog howled in the heat of the full moon, the old house rustled like constantly turning pages. But far off southward a stony ridge lay waiting for me to know it. I move closer towards the pole. Wind off the mountain snow, small white-etched trees leaning in leeward gestures. I shall step carefully into the acid vapour of morning frost. At night I shall light fires. Doesn't summer half know itself a cheat, conjuring all this green foliage to hide the rocks, the earth then waits to take it back? Beauté de diable its enchanting flesh already beginning to droop like an old breast on ribs of bone. I'm tired now, summers, of cutting you back to size. Where I'm going you will be more succinct; just time for a hurried embroidery of bud, leaf, flower, seed before the snow-winds snip you to a root's endurance. I may be more at home observing your quick pa**ages, stacking up wood against the length of winter.