An OZ DECEMBER MORNING

Cicadas hatching –
Their chorus of rising decibels
harmonizing with my tinnitus,
overwhelms my hearing aid.

While it’s still cool
a hungry Dugite follows the
drainage ditch
to the hen house –
flicking tongue hunting new laid eggs.

He doesn’t yet know that
I’ve beaten him to it.
But I know –
because it’s a game we play
every summer morning –
that he’ll slither next
down to the swamp
and hunt frogs,
lay up under a bush and
sleep the day away.

Good on ya’ snake.
Wish I could –
sleep I mean,
not eat frogs!

Above my garden –
more weeds there
than flowers,
I fear –
two crows on a telephone pole
inspect my not so green thumb,
and cackle their displeasure
that no insects are revealed
by my desultory actions.

But there’s diet Kola-beer -
no more pilsner my doctor says -
cooling in the Esky.
Come the heat of the day
I can watch our Cricketers
beat the Pomes again, again.



Jacarandas, mauve clouds
above the roof tops,
adorn suburban streets -
and the rotting fallen petals
will be a cow to clean up
in a month!

Our native golden-blossomed
‘Christmas Trees’ announce
the Saviour’s Advent.
And if this drought
continues they will make
as good a fodder for the
cattle as Tagasaste.

The dog – who has other uses
than aesthetics
for Jacarandas
and golden bush trees -
shakes himself after a dust bath,
and seeks a shady spot.

I’ve watered the garden.
Time for the
‘West Australian Ballet’ –
our resident Willy Wagtail
doing her circle dance
around the base of a rose bush,
forcing bugs and seeds
to the surface of the damp soil.
A better provider than
the whinging witless crows,
she feasts,
moves to the next
bush and does her dance again –

Prima ballerina!

The crows have gone,
and so will I.
Tools to the shed.
Boots by the back door.
Time to ‘veg’ with the Cricket.

A Six!
‘You little beudy’ Ponting!
Aussie – Aussie – Aussie! Oy –Oy – Oy! –
A little barracking –
like praise of God –
is always good
for the soul I find!
by James Gagiikwe © 2007