We ride early, along the truck damaged highway
& then gravel corrupted with corrugation
Empty ways - there's little out here.
Paddocks and paddocks of nothingness
Where magpies sit on fences, delinquents
High on wet air drunk with sharp beaks.
Bikes parked, she leads me through the wire
Webs soften the barbs, the gum trees, everywhere
Drops of water highlight spidery crochet
Kangaroos watch before startled scarper
Rabbit bones, bird skulls, a large sun bleached femur.
She leaps to a patch of pine caps
Slicing through stipes, she avoids bruises
They nestle gentle in the wicker panier
She fills a bag with pine cones
It bites hard on my shoulder, heavy.
Pink ladies bob, clover leaves curl.
We misname the bush: giraffe trees, hairy fella gums.
Patches of moss, lichen coated branches, wallaby holes.
Hatching amanita, hemispherical sporocarps
Cockatoos unstitch the peacefulness
Plucking a white feather from wet grass
She tucks it playfully in a buttonhole
Wonders what to do with kangaroo apples - jam?
She tucks hair behind her ears, lit
With presence, absolutely here.
Forefingers and thumbs prickle with collected rosehips
There's a fruity sweetness, an underlying musk.
Undersoil things, she explains
Bacteria, mycellium, decomposition.
I think of the developers convincing council
There's nothing here, just paddocks.
Just paddocks.
Revision
After drafting the above, I copied it into a document and edited it. I like the new one better. What do you think? Please feel free to constructively criticise me. I'd like to be better!
Collecting Mushrooms
We ride early, along a damaged highway
& then gravel corrupted with corrugation
Empty ways - there's little out here.
Paddocks and paddocks of nothingness
Where magpies sit on fences, delinquents
High on wet air drunk with sharp beaks.
Bikes parked, we push through the wire
Webs soften the barbs, pine needles -
Drops of water highlight spidery crochet
Roos watch before startled scarper
Fog strokes white rabbit bones & bird skulls.
She leaps to a patch of saffies
Slices stipes, shakes dirt from gills
Places gently to avoid bruises
My bag heaves with pine cones for the fire.
Pink ladies bob, clover leaves curl.
We misname the bush: giraffe trees, hairy fella gums.
Patches of moss, lichen coated branches, wallaby holes.
Hemispherical sporocarps: hatching amanita.
Cockatoos unstitch the calm
Plucking a white feather from wet grass
She tucks it playfully in a buttonhole
Wonders what to do with kangaroo apples - jam?
She is lit with presence, absolutely here
Forefingers and thumbs prickle with collected rosehips
There's a fruity sweetness, an underlying musk.
Undersoil things, she explains
Bacteria, mycellium, decomposition.
I think of the developers convincing council
There's nothing here, just paddocks.
With Love,
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