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| Marybrook, south-western Western Australia Photo Credit: Andrew M. Bell |
The grass slakes its summer thirst,
fatting its straw bones,
chlorophyll returning to its cheeks
with the vigour of ruddy-faced children
released into the playground.
An end to Cinemascope blue sky
as variations of grey creep over us
like mood swings.
Out along this rutted road,
the rain gathers in obstinate puddles
that mirror the discontent of earth
waiting to turn into mud.
Swallows glide beside my vehicle
like a fighter escort,
banking sharply to engage insects,
the bounty from my wheels.
Like a petulant child, the mist
hangs on to the Darling Range.
Prawners keep their vigil along the Peel Inlet
while the Murray and Serpentine rivers
hold back their water
like vain men holding in their stomachs.
When the pretence lapses,
more than two bellies will be full.
At Halls Head, the ocean rolls up,
unattended and unannounced.
With only a few fishing boats to play with,
the sea is the colour of sadness.
Across the vibrant parkland,
trees and shrubs are waking up
while on the ramshackle jetties
the pelicans, herons and cormorants
are basking in that most precious commodity,
Autumn sunshine.
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