Cockies pierce the quietude, Black and white ones.
They’re casting yabby shadows.
The deception deepens.
The confusion increases, Time speeds up. The grand new cathedrals, Are built and unveiled.
Hot incline, seed pod collecting.
Smoke the water. Feed the seeds.
At altitude, my billabong.
Galahs upside down, Cool purple shadows.
Afar the charred hill.
Regrowth. It’s hot, bloody hot.
I slice the abalone meat and cook it on a smooth rock.
That evening, the sky had a light show. It is reflected in the abalone shells’ mother of pearl.
They are the calcified light shows from centuries ago.
