wetlands…
two pacific black ducks
glide past the reeds
away from the madding crowd
the world as it should be
through
the canopied bush track
past glistening Yarra…
our conversation gives way
to the whispers of gums
hitting the ball
a lone golfer on the course…
egging him on
from across the park
an unseen kookaburra
silent ripples
through blue sky and gums
on Birrarung river…
I strain to hear the songs of those
who once lived on this land