Addendum: Poetry at first light – a poem
Here is one of the poems you heard:
Spring can’t wait ~ September, Jagun – extract
A Golden Whistler sings from a low Bloodwood branch,
flycatchers are chasing a cuckoo and honeyeaters chase
each other with tenacity as spring charges forward.
Not a breeze in the sky but leaves are falling
onto a stream of Greenhood Orchids that unfurl
medieval scripts, mysterious contraptions to attract
passing insects. A kookaburra calls, no sign of Tarzan
in this strangely perfect ordinary glorious day.
Gracile Fairy Orchids lift pink fingers from sandy earth
I document koala scats, trace neighbourhood branches.
Lew saw one by the creek last week, the first in years.
Is this the resurrection? Does X mark a shifting spot?
A shadow rubs the surface of dusk, runs across
the rigid road mobbed by magpies and melts into
the fuzz of bush, from the tail Pheasant Coucal?
Slater says, “Usually seen running across road.”
Thud, thud, a roo bounds in the consistent
darkness. Who is on guard duty?
There’s no sign of light and motion or Friday’s fireflies.