From Garden to Forest

9

IN THE GARDEN

Searching for a herb named solace;
they say it grows in hard ground;
I am sure it used to grow here,
somewhere.
It goes with nearly everything.
Perhaps it is nowhere to be found.
Better than heart’s ease, growing
among honesty and patience.




THE HUNGOVER FOREST

(In memory of naturalist Gerald Durrell,
who wrote The Drunken Forest in 1956)

The Australian forest wakens;
crapulous, hungover;
the koala sleeps it off
in a nook of his tree, 
stuffed with gum leaves 
and dozy on their oil;
kangaroos blink in the light,
possums and gliders hide
indoors after a hard night;
frogmouths and nightjars 
look like drunks,
hunched together, bleary-eyed 
in bars;
as dry-mouthed as the soil;
but galahs fly by, pink and white
and gray, turbulent in flight,
screeching out: Wake up,
you blokes, it’s another
blessed day.

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