by Dijanne Cevaal

Silent it is not,
when I walk.

A soft swoosh
on the air
the elegant swoop of a white throated heron,
too shy for encounter.

Further along, the busy twittering
of fairy wrens
flitting through the undergrowth,
fossicking on the ground.

Overhead the lorrikeets
fly and chatter
high up in the eucalypt canopies
searching for gumnuts.

Whilst standing still
the whistle, then lash of the whipbird
echoes through the tree trunks,
and calls again.

The raucous screeching of
yellow-tailed black cockatoos
reverberates up high,
lookouts for the chattering gang.

And yet there is a stillness that calms the racing thoughts.