Lights in Dry Nights

I am stunned

by a spider's

fixed stare.

The full moon,

an orange glow,

rises in another

swallow-settled evening,

of noisy scuffles in

dry leafy mulch,

decayed from days,

months, years

of drought. `Roos

are dying. Without

water we shall all die.

Red hens leap

Lauren Jackson style.

Lift up, stretch tall for

dangling fat black mulberries.

Juices keep them alive.

Spinebills sink into

honey'd banksias.

I keep my cup ready

to catch liquids,

whatever there is.

~~~

©barbaraataylor2005