Poem # 63 Yallabelli Creek

There is a dip in the ground where Yallabelli Creek soaks among dead gum leaves, beyond that large ghost gums and bloodwood and paperbark and eucalyptus begin to take the place of accacia and wattle. The continued tossing and pouring of the wind among the gum leaves sufficiently conceals the sound of my footsteps on a moss covered log. This soft sound is for the ear what a moonless night is to the eye. I move cautiously slipping from one big trunk to another scanning the surrounding bush for signs and meaning. The two dogs sniff quietly at wombat and rabbit burrows in the creek bank. Suddenly a kangaroo passes like a shadow through the underwood in front of us and we freeze motionless in a bush tableau, except for this part of bounding retreat. This small bush environment may have been certainly deserted, but now that this poor startled roo has run, she is like a messenger sent before us, and with squawk and rustle, parrots,rabbits, echidna, and lyrebird all exit the area.