Ross Bridge spanning the Macquarie River in Ross, Tasmania (Australia)

The road unravels as I go,
Walking into the sun, the anaemic
Sun that lights Van Diemen’s land.
This week I have sung for my supper in seven towns.
I sleep in haysheds and corners
Out of the wind, wrapped in a wagga rug.
In the mornings pools of mist fragment the country,
Bits of field are visible higher up on rides,
Treetops appear, the mist hangs about for hours.
A drink at a valley river coming down
Out of Mount Ossa; climb back to the road,
Start walking, a song to warm these lips
White-bitten with cold.
In the hedges live tiny birds
Who sing in bright colours you would not hear
In your fast vehicles. They sing for minstrels
And the sheep...

In a poem by Michael Dransfield

Tasman Bridge over the Derwent River in Hobart, Tasmania (Australia)

Hold me now, Oh hold me now
'Til this hour has gone around
And I'm gone on the rising tide
For to face Van Diemen's land

It's a bitter pill I swallow here
To be rent from one so dear
We fought for justice and not for gain
But the magistrate sent me away...

Lyrics from Van Diemen's Land 
by U2

Richmond Bridge over the Coal River in Richmond, Tasmania (Australia)

The Richmond Bridge is allegedly haunted. The story is as follows: a reputedly cruel jailer named George Grover often whipped convicts from a cart as they quarried sandstone from nearby Butcher’s Hill. One night in 1832, Grover staggered home after a drunken fight and fell asleep atop the bridge. He was pushed off during the night and fell seven meters to his death. No one was convicted of his murder, however it’s widely reported his ghost now haunts the bridge.

Legend of the Richmond Bridge.

Tasman Bridge spanning the Derwent River in Hobart, Tasmania (Australia)

"In memory of those who died.

In recognition of those who were affected.

In acknowledgement of those who assisted.

The Tasmanian Community remembers the Tasman Bridge disaster of 5 January 1975"

Plaque in the Tasmanian Bridge

Bowen Bridge over Derwent River in Hobart, Tasmania (Australia)

My point of reference is this summer slope
these paddocks stacked like long plates of bread;
and at day's end, the black loaves of the hills
I am back in Hobart after years away
visiting remembered, holy places:
grey boulders in a small suburban creek,
the leopart spotted plane trees in the square.
The permanence of places does not recede;
the spiritual sky, the unencumbered air.

Poem Back in Hobart

Vivian Smith