Kur-ring-gai Botanic Garden by Colleen Keating

between breaths

Nothing more beautiful under the sun than to be under the sun”
Walt Whitman

On one of those chill winter days
when rugged up in your woolies
you don’t mind it being such –
with stay of azure sky’s low sun

an in-breath of wildness to interrupt
day to day mindset

distant ring of the honeyeater
a creek tinkles      gold      glint
tones of green     all  beckon

into a world charged with a Hopkins vibe
sienna beacons of banksia
enlivening the way

sturdy trees usher us onwards
some  ramrod sentinels
others lazed-back like friends
free   in size and shape
red gum turpentine iron bark
 peppermint    scribbly gum
thickened roots flow like treacle
into rock crevices


white trunks with stories to tell
their scribbled language intrigue

suddenly crunch crunch in the undergrowth
alerts us to wallabies
that bump bump bump away
we miss their peering eyes
but so happy they are here

deep in the forest we find a spot
in a clearing for our picnic.


magpies warble their presence
a brush turkey befriends us
two kookaburras entertain our stay
one like a zen buddhist on the bough above

the out-breath of wilderness comes
reluctantly
like the end of a symphony
that holds you in its other world

 

Some surprises y in the undergrowth

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