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
>
>
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