Again clouds balloon across the sky,
Restoration ladies lifting swelled skirts
to piss in casual passing
on the mud-running gutter of creeks.
Daisies dash across the plain
and dribble along the fence,
songlines from paddock to paddock,
white-capped and yellow-eyed
they dance through saltbush
with the fecund smile of spring.
A growth of moss has purpled the claypans
surrounded by lines of serious silver-breasted rye
and careless crops of copper burr
where, in a depression, a shiny black thistle
feeds on the felted yellow bones
of a ewe and a lamb.
