here – the bellbird’s “pip”
there – overhead, a helicopter churns
nostrils flowering with eucalyptus
metal mimicking the ocean
wash after relentless wash of cars on highway.
only a few metres away
a progress narrative is unfolding.
on a road you are always on the road to somewhere
here in the forest we are going nowhere
we have frightened all the small animals
muted greenery devoid of heartbeat now
this is just a pleasant place for a walk
respite from the sedative tyranny of shopping mauls
endless Bunnings
Australian natives all half price.
eleanor j jackson 