An evening in Warringine Park (Hastings)

The wondrous whistle of birds insistent

in the early evening warming breeze.


Stillness and life in the final shadows

of the closing cloudless day.


Expanse of native green unfurled

in the patchy wet and dry mud plain.


Echoes of distant voices fluttering in the

delight of early sun-spilled eve.


Coloured golden shadows thrown madly

across the sea of bush and green.


The breathing close and living fragment

of what once was large before the fall.


Water summer stagnant but alive

with the community of crab scurrying into homes.


New growth now masking the bare black soot

and charred remnants of the ravaging fire.


The moon half-eaten in the northern sky

smiles long at the scene, as sun abandons the day.


Walking in the beauteous abject loneliness

as a creature among creatures, near and far.