Just off track
footsteps, no thud,
no bounce, not a roo,
too measured.
Too loud for Pittas, Brush
Turkeys or Logrunners,
too steady for goannas.
The steps come closer
splintering the leaf litter.
Crouching in debris
I finger my camera
and stare at the strangle
of stems, roots, foliage,
filaments of forest
outside night
but ensnaring shadows.
Hearing nothing
I tread further
deliciously uncertain
. . . nothing . .
.
as if the earth
was dancing
backwards,
cautiously,
voice muted.
A Walk to the brilliance of Oyster Lagoon via the creek, two goannas, an antechinus, Swamp Wallaby, Eastern Greys and a Humpback Whale plus various birds, such as a dishevelled Yellow Thornbill, waiting for the sun to paint on its bright yellow adult plumage . . . and footsteps.
gotta love a bush mystery
ReplyDeleteMysterious. Beautiful. Right.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing theses special places and spaces
ReplyDeleteI can smell the forest and feel that air.
ReplyDeleteI like this very much, especially the first photo.
ReplyDelete