I adore

my sister’s sons &

this

tributary crow

town

laughter

of industry

rhythm

     streams

      flow from

dense seedbank

sky-                

      corridor to

ward

ancient economies

precious

Gadigal

way                    

          Bidjigal

pockets    

they're listening

to

she-oak

Wangal

voices regrowing

  yarns

on occupied land

stored and spun

along this Wolli valley walk

      sustaining

familial

  inflections

   accents

  rusted

auto-

orchestrations

once

a chain of

mobile

ponds &

from their broken      

  long before

so far from homelands

croaking

english grew

cliff face

caves filled

fossil

flood waters

with broken glass

wetland salt marsh

counterparts

exhaling pan-greenery &

a wound

a cadenza remnant filled

this shady patch

healing

topsoil

tears

their properly good

ol' holiday

grassroot

voices

all day sing

memory's

out

landish

creek covered ruins

in love &

war

with every

light-speckled

lizard

sipping grevillea dew

or

whispers of

some such incident

where new growth leaves

sunny pollen on their faces

that would babble like

the Country

mind &

spring

breezes

an image

a shady

grove

pooled lowest point

a story

black magic

(colocasia esculenta)

stemlets

tilt &

dance

animate in joyful

      tangles