there are important incongruities


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.

Categorized as musing

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

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