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Yes, Bill (and thanks). We've not had anything, apart from 5 minute spits, that resembles a true bit of rainfall since around Christmas, and that wasn't exactly extensive. The birds know, I reckon, which is why they're sheltering and scrounging in cities as they can. Cheers, Jill ________________________ Jill Jones wwwjilljones.com.au Latest book: Brink, Five Islands Press http://fiveislandspress.com/catalogue/brink-jill-jones ----- Original Message ----- From: "Poetryetc: poetry and poetics" To: Cc: Sent:Wed, 21 Mar 2018 12:19:15 +1100 Subject:Re: Snap: with magpie Feel this, Jill. Land around here crackling and splintering like bones. Rain lack permeates your being. Everything becomes a struggle. Magpies perhaps know the secret. Bill > On 21 Mar 2018, at 12:10 pm, Jill Jones wrote: > > > > TIME WOULD CHOOSE > > > > what is the magpie searching for next to the path > > all this summer we’ve felt only dust > > > > a tree has fallen, its sap taken by drought’s gravity > > and there’s a mash of branches like a burst moon > > > > I trace ancient blur in the floating night > > those tiny points spilling from the galaxy’s breast > > > > the creek is torpid and smells like a sour sea > > the bushlands seem to crackle and splinter like bones > > > > I can tell myself its natural that everything dies > > but when is death a place or time you would choose > > > > to lie down together with the soil and the stone > > to give up the air and the song in your mouth > > > > rather be with sky like that magpie and dreaming > > rather be vagrant than something you’d own > > [Note: the words ending each line of this poem are also words ending > lines of various poems I've been reading this week on not dis-similar > 'themes'] > > > ________________________ > Jill Jones > www.jilljones.com.au > > Latest book: Brink, Five Islands Press > http://fiveislandspress.com/catalogue/brink-jill-jones > >