Cirrus@Austlit

'In bushland off a highway a three-pronged track leads to an old gum, a cliff, and a riverbank. A fog has wafted in through the trees. The leaves, numb and frosted, snap one by one, falling to rest amongst the bark chips and ants. The clouds settle at knee-level as the fog's fingers create an ethereal playground. No holidaymakers are expected to visit the park this week. No tourists should click lenses and capture filtered light through branches. No families should disturb the mist with treks and picnics. However, when the park ranger steps out of the hut and into the car park, he finds it near full...' (Publication abstract)