The eggs are very small and white, probably spider eggs, clustered
together and seemingly born in red clay, although there must have been
space for them or they would have been crushed by the pushing effort.
It is a 'special world', the world's second oldest landscape if memory
serves me well. Once upon a time a lot of land around here was under
the ocean, and inland there was a fabled 'inland sea'.
My poem was originally prompted by a Kevin Gilbert poem in '100
Australian Poems for Children':
I'm a Cicada
I can sing
the same old thing
the same old thing
I am a Cicada
I can sing
the same old thing
the some old thing
all day.
And, Max, there is a wonderful Bill Hart-Smith poem in here, too:
'Blue-Bottles'. Funny. (No Roland Robinson though.)
On 15/08/07, Stephen Vincent <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Seems like a special world to me, Andrew.
> Thank your for 'the provision'.
>
> But where and why - or what kind - those eggs??
>
> Enjoy, as you are, the grace of it!!
>
> Stephen V
> http://stephenvincent.net/blog/
>
--
Andrew
http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
http://www.inblogs.net/hispirits
http://www.flickr.com/photos/aburke/
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