Carrying the Colours

At the summit of Mount Kosciuszko
my convent girl stopped
briefly.
to apply coral lipstick to a blue-chilled mouth
before folding her hands again
into the neat nest of her sleeves.
The plate-wide brim of her regulation hat
balanced above a slender stem of purple collar,
sailed steadily ahead.
Unminding the snow glare
unheeding the mirror menace of seagreen shards
that reached into yellowed clouds,
it deflected their polished prisms
into submission as she walked,
throwing their violet shadows
into a soft dark cloak over her heart.
Ever onwards, her stalwart, forward pace
gusted threads of lost clouds around her feet,
swung up the decorous green hem of her skirt
and lifted the heavy folds of her utility cloak
into a royal purple banner,
one woman's quiet revolution
bellying out into the silent wastes.