Birdsville, Werribee

This morning a bird I could not name 
spanned a sun I could not tame
and on the road the dazzled day
turned and turned its winding way.
Through chicanes, past milkbars ran
the path to work, the time to plan,
but I was struck by birds in view
on Kookaburra Avenue.

And God I'm sure made birds to fly
both for their sake, and yours and mine.
In dying days we see these dreams
and wait for life to burst its seams.
In ordinary time we catch
the moment when we see the latch
of heaven's door creak open, wide.
Wipe dust from street; come, come inside.

Ordinary Time

Meanwhile, pluck tomatoes
ripe from the garden.
Watch the quinces shed their fur,
turn late-summer-yellow,
and burst with promise while
cockatoos eye them off.
Check the peaches.
See the opening flowers on the lemon tree.
Cut the roses, deck the table.
Water, plant and wait.
Number days and count the joys
and trust that tears shall cease.