Australia / Invasion Day
I wander through the garden enjoying the rain,
picking seed heads from the weeds, postponing
the mattock and digging while nagged by thinking.
The Wonga with a limp is walking the other way
on its fixed perambulation, ruminating,
exercising or looking for seeds, fruit and snails.
Wyn was about to bake, improvising icing sugar
for the local rite with Welcome to Country,
Gumbaynggirr music and a lamington competition,
but we are staying put, my stomach not right
(twitchy after Delhi) so I’m writing this poem
on Australia Day, thinking of what’s been lost.