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The forest
is still and quiet,
it drips dark streaks
down bark.
On the hill kangaroos appear
out of mist,
their fur wet, dark.
Flying ants fill the air out my window
they move in white clouds
a circle dance
like joy.
The dog climbs up beside me
rearranges the cushions
sighing loudly.
And in the plant pots, flowers
hang their damp heavy faces.
I walk to the dam
where a cormorant
sits high in the gum.
She dries her stretched black wings
watches me
watching her.
