In Main Street, Mordialloc
the lull of evening signalled
by oh, so familiar sounds…
the birds begin to jostle and joust
for palm tree frond, gum-leafed house.
Dusk descends into twilight glow
the tweets and squeals
now a deafening crescendo –
a cacophony of conversation:
‘Time for bed.’
‘That’s my branch…’
‘Move over magpies!’
All must know their station
In life, there’s a sense of place
chatter, bargain, even squabble
but eventually, share the space.
‘Stop skylarking about!’
‘You lorikeet lout!’
‘Squeeze over sparrows.’
‘How precious are parrots?’
‘Pigeons! The rooftops are home for you
go mutter your usual “coo coo”…’
And in the gloaming, shadows
of building construction loom,
mounds of dirt inhabit lonely gloom.
A treeless landscape, evictions rife
Mordi’s birds facing a new life.
I remember a bloody chainsaw day
shake my head, and turn away…
Continue to walk by Mordi Creek
watch the ducks silently glide,
a gannet rest in contemplation
this beautiful tranquillity
a sanctuary from conurbation.
How lovely the shimmering ripples
of boats tethered for the night, as
feathered friends dive and feed
in the quickly fading light.
A familiar outline against the sky
silhouettes of ancient trees
reminding us of when this creek
hosted Bunurong corroborees.
The path peopled by dog walkers,
and school children hurrying home
joggers and health fanatics – all
grateful for the space to roam.
In the eucalyptus evening hush
this precious part of the day, my
Mordialloc meditative therapy
designed to keep the doldrums at bay.