An OZ DECEMBER MORNING

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
sensory impressions of a December Saturday morning

Submitted: December 03, 2007

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Submitted: December 03, 2007

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An OZ DECEMBER MORNING

 

 

Cicadas hatching –

Their chorus of rising decibels

harmonizes with my tinnitus,

and overwhelms my hearing aid.

 

While it’s still cool,

a hungry Dugite follows the

drainage ditch

to the hen house –

flicking tongue hunting newly laid eggs.

 

He doesn’t yet know that

I’ve beaten him to it.

But I know –

because it’s a game we play

every summer morning –

 that he’ll slither next

down to the swamp

and hunt frogs,

lay up under a bush and

sleep the rest of the day away.

 

Good on’ya snake.

Wish I could –

sleep I mean,

not eat frogs!

 

Above my garden,

two crows on a telephone pole

inspect my not so green thumb,

and cackle their displeasure

that no insects are revealed

by my weeding.

 

More weeds there

than flowers,

I fear.

 

But there’s diet Kola-beer -

no more pilsner my doctor says -

cooling in the Esky.

Come the heat of the day

I can watch our Cricketers

beat the Pomes again, again.

 

 

 

Jacarandas, mauve clouds

above the roof tops,

adorn suburban streets -

and the rotting fallen petals

will be a cow to clean up

in a month!

 

Our native golden-blossomed

‘Christmas Trees’ announce

the Saviour’s Advent.

And if this drought

continues they will make

as good a fodder for the

cattle as Tagasaste.

 

The dog – who has other uses

than aesthetics for Jacarandas

and golden bush trees -

shakes himself after a dust bath,

and seeks a shady spot.

 

I’ve watered.

Time for the

West Australian Ballet –

our resident Willy Wagtail

does her circle dance

around the base of a rose bush,

forcing bugs and seeds

to the surface of the damp soil.

A better worker than the

whinging witless crows,

she feasts,

moves to the next

bush and dances again.

 

Prima ballerina.

 

The crows have gone,

and so will I.

Tools to the shed.

Boots by the back door.

Time to ‘veg’ with the Cricket.

 

A Six!

‘You little beaudy’ Ponting!

Aussie – Aussie – Aussie!  Oy –Oy – Oy! –

 

A little barracking

is good

for the soul.

 

By James Gagiikwe  © 2007


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