Member-only story
Bush Walk: A Prose Poem
Immersed in the Australian bush
I stand on the track, alone. The clear silence of the bush is etched with currawong calls, creaking branches and the distant rumble of a tractor. A kookaburra swoops past, wings whirring as it speeds away to warn the kangaroos. Humans! Across the gully, its raucous call is a long, hiccupping warble, and then the thumps of kangaroos reach me.
Eucalyptus fills the air with its pungent scent, sharp and aromatic in the back of my throat. Shafts of sunlight angle through the trees, creating a bright patchwork along the track. Vibrant green curls of bracken are opening like snails coming out of their shells.
Soft, feathery bursts of bright yellow acacia blossoms are like paint splashes against the rough-barked gums. As I walk through wells of sunlight, waves of orange-and-brown butterflies rise and drift around me. In small pockets under the bracken, delicate twining lilies and native orchids are small stars of colour.
I sense eyes watching, wonder if the vermilion-brushed fox is hiding nearby, waiting for me to pass before he slips away down the gully. A grey fantail flutters and chirps its tinkling song to accompany me on my way home.
