Toolangi and the tree;
the copper beech ’n’ me.
Spoken words writ long time past
inviting tears from eyes of glass
and hearts and minds long numbed by time
come alive at the dinkum sound of Strine.
Deeply into my soul doth seep
words read at Toolangi
’neath the beech
The Den’s magic has begun
fired by a Sunday sun.

©Anthony W. Pahl
13^th February 2000

Page created: Tuesday, 02 October 2001