The expedition began in the seed house with
Phaius tankervilleae, grown so easily, yet these
native orchids are endangered- too beautiful.
We listen out, Blackbutts lose limbs in this wind,
thick green straps spool out of a giant Elkhorn,
emitting a red glow from a natural death.
The surface of Oyster Creek, a monochrome joy,
looks like a beach. I’m waiting for tourists to go,
a possibility, with all this rain and more forecast.
We are meant to be night-spotting tomorrow,
will probably be cancelled. A Yellow-belied Glider
would be a treat, or anything that moves.
The cancel culture has no yet reached here, as far
as I am aware, but there’s too much to be aware of
to know exactly what we are meant to be.