earlier, full moon morning
white orb weaver
spun glow into view  
here, at Star Swamp
a chill as still
stands beside you
arms raised
a dancer
heralds day
black root
a memory
of snake
on track’s edge
crystal rock fungi
eroded, sporeless
lichen landscape
tableau grows
world in miniature
fairy wren
puts on blue  
breeding coat  
butcher bird hangs
each note on a hook
inside your ear
what is a bloom if not
a calendar, calling
season to move
what is rain
if not a prelude
to fire
yellow candle banksia
will give way to firewood banksia
flower the intensity of a flame
insulation against grubs
as fronds
volcano skyward
the say “bushland forever”
as if this is new, growth
but jarrah knows better
up above
black cockatoo squalls
warns extinction is forever