Planted the island there and drew it round her.
Therefore I find in me the double tree.
And therefore I, deserted on the wharves,
have watched the ships fan out their webs of streamers
(thinking of how the lookout at the heads
leaned out towards the dubious rims of sea
to find a sail blown over like a message
you are not forgotten),
or followed through the taproot of the poplar …
But look, oh look, the Gothic tree's on fire
with blown galahs, and fuming with wild wings.
The hard inquiring wind strikes to the bone and whines division.
Many roads meet here
in me, the traveller and the ways I travel.
All the hills' gathered waters feed my seas
who am the swimmer and the mountain river;
This is an idea of roads, the cross roads is a powerful symbol and Judit Wright turns the cross roads into a place of juncture where it is possible to overcome the difference between being English and Australian.
For New England