Back towards Oyster Lagoon
We bumped into our neighbour Tim yesterday , the council ‘s weed guy
he was worried, had seen some Giant rat’s tail grass, a weed from Africa,
we said we’d take a look, so here we are with poison, bags and trowel.
Seed is scattered, some think it too late, and abjure the mourning.
On the way so many distractions, some of the richest sounds in the galaxy,
and tiny three petalled lobelias, violets purple and white, the red spots
of colour are the fresh leaves of the Sarsaparilla vine, glimpse
of a Swamp Wallaby bounding away.
The creek is lying on its back reflecting the sky, gripping
the trees off the bank and holding them upside down.