After the Lerderderg Library is Officially Opened

Of course, that sulphur-crested commentator
just had to express "his" opinions from the top
of the leafless elm.

And now, near dusk, the cuckoo shrike
makes its move on the feast otherwise known
as my verdant garden.

The honeyeaters have gorged themselves
the pigeons and sparrows hunched together
as "Old World" birds do.

The trees are suddenly still.
Bees, numbed by cold, gone.
A chirping announces fairy wrens!


"Of course, your garden's quite a jungle, Jen".
But safe. Cat-free at last (perhaps trespassers
all died). Safe.

The leucodendrons lose light
as last light flees to the sky
and everything rests.