My poem ‘Late Summer Crescent Moon’ was published in Plumwood Journal: An Australian and International Journal of Ecopoetry and Ecopoetics.
So many amazing writers in this issue. Well worth reading every single one.
Late Summer Crescent Moon
Alicia Sometimes
Ukulele sounds swing their way over by early evening
landing on the back deck. Stirred joy of rainbow lorikeets
perch by circle mirrors on the side wall—portholes
into garden oceans reflecting bright flecks of flight
mosaics in the shifting air. You, with a wide-brimmed hat
carving the bamboo as it encroaches upon the lost barbeque
halting for a second to drink a long iced-tea as the sun fades
then eating the plums and camembert on your ornate plate
I venture inside to grab a cool cloth to wipe your forehead
as the crow makes a fuss just because the dog is at his bowl
Patting your brow, you gesture at the broken twigs, evidence
of the brushtail possum living above the frayed trampoline
two slaters, Roley Poleys, dark grey and oval-shaped move
burrowing in the potato peels I put down earlier. These earthy
crustaceans are so small, the temptation to flick them is strong
but I don’t. Snails slide by them in the leaf litter and fungi
their trails—thin threads bridging over to shaded logs
This backyard needs its own encyclopaedia as I trace steps
of all guests. Magpies show off their études—lyrical timbre
of voice echoing across the street into neighbours’ yards
their song not disturbing the skink who was sunbathing
on concrete—his sleek reflexes put on hold while he stirs
Next door, the serene Satin Bowerbird with its purple eyes
gathering seed-pods, string, matchboxes, all to make a home
This side, the magnolia with its large, glossy leaves is towering
—existing well before bees, relying on beetles for pollination
graceful giants outlasting most. Someone close, on their own
partying, raising a glass to the sliver of moon. You join in
lifting your tea cup in empathy—a silent pact with the night
as the overhanging branches frame the buzzing expanse of stars
