A break in the clouds.
The solid profile of the Blue Mountains
that cut the horizon.
The muted yellow of the stubble.
The river very black.
What am I doing in this place,
alone and full of guilt?
I eat the berries from the source.
Without problems. If I was dead,
I told to myself, I could not taste them.
Nothing is so simple.
Yes, everything is that simple. Naturally.