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.