The
poem:
Twilight
and the bears are silent at
this
time of year. On warmer
nights
In
rutting season you may hear a grumble or
growl
or roar
as
they lumber from limb to limb
looking
down disdainful noses
should
they be disturbed. Now
cicadas
vibrate the night, a bird stirs in
the
branches shaking out feathers but
no
bears.
I
wrote this one winter's day as I walked the creek banks
searching in vain for koala signs. Skulls and paw prints of cuddly
Phascolarctos cinereus team with painted and collaged gum leaves to
build this koala story. The dominant eye-shape was a drawing in my
sketch book of some fallen timber in the creek area. The
"pupil" smudge reminded me of a koala nose, so it became a
part of the whole.