Christmas, Kangaroo Valley

Even The Darkest Hour Lasts Only
Sixty Minutes says the billboard
at the Moss Vale Church: overlooking
Fiztroy Falls a hangover dictating
my best option is descent to land

where defunct tractor parts
are rusty but effective magnets
pulling holidayers into eateries
and Parisian Ladies of the Belle Epoque
hide their faces behind temporary

tinsel boas, as if they know softporn sepia
plus timing equals art. Outside I see
a servo owner’s hung a hollowed half-log
right above the bowser. Even now this
planter trails the odd sear tendril.