September 2020

Back to Issue 8

dry run

By Brenda Saunders


    tall grasses crowd the ditch 

    last remnant 

    of a shifting creek                        


    budgerigars flash yellow

    a thousand wings lift

    a scree scree to the sky


   on the turn a green dazzle 

   swarms in formation 

   sinks in dusty reeds


   at sunset insects hum 

   the marshy pond, swarm 

   a yellow fuzz in mimosa 


   crimson chats flame 

   in spiky reeds. 

   afraid of stillness 


   they flit, whirr 

   too fast for our eyes to catch 

   their life slowed down


   to endless days 

   in cumbungi


   a hundred ink blots totter 

   down a sloping bank    

   native hens on red pins 


   smudge into shadow                                             

   slow as a river in drought

   they sip one by one                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

   flee at the call of a kite

   cruising overhead.