Blue Poles suite Jan 7th
A shy Swamp Wallaby on Jagun’s edge
looks at the world, eyes high on its grey face
scanning the horizon, where their focus meets
a horizontal band of nerves matting the retina
and above the red forehead the black ears,
each revolving 180 degrees for complete cover.
Perhaps the least attractive wallaby, it looks down,
scratches its belly, then bounds back
into the forest, rain is falling
I lose touch in the sheaths of Blady Grass
think of grabbing my binoculars, but let it go
a rare sight in the garden – now growing up
so that Eastern Rozellas are regulars,
King Parrots are showing some interest
and a Buff-banded Rail has investigated.
What would a home be without ants
or sharing these words?
Each being the centre of a universe,
a creation that moves beyond market forces.