In the shrill sound of cicadas
I move the sprinkler
pulling the hose over
red rocky ground.
Who drinks here
beneath the evening sky
with the lace silhouette
of tall gums before
the pink sky's edge?
A straw-necked ibis
wings away and quacks
like a duck. Beneath
ochre-red clay, amongst
a complex syntax of roots,
strongest of earth's creatures
push and pull a way
through thickest breath.
Webbed eggs fill a dark cavity,
a thick-bellied vein worms
by a deep chamber.
I turn my ear to
a chortle, a choking sound
below the cicadas -
once, then nothing.
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