From the Dust of Stars
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A keke-ke-ik cry skirls the air, not from the lonegull high in the green cloud, not the cormorant fishingthe lake in early light, nor from swallows in theirscythe and skim at the edge but a pair of ploverson the bank, their urgent call in rhythm withthe pace of circus stilt-walkers on red legs.
Spurred wings swoop low in pursuit–qui vive their defence of nest and chicks hidden inverge of bristled grass. Strategically, they strutgrim-masked faces, sometimes coy in priested–collarsometimes they stretch their white necks and shrieklike angry roosters. I sense their desperation
and step back to honour their cry.Plover instinct jolts my mind to parenthood.Memory of a little one, nuzzled at the breast, handcurved warm skin to skin swaddled in the pre-dawn.Now my eyes stay on these ground birds.I muse how we come from the dust of stars fired
from the same exploding cosmos.A clear morning opens into the sky. A new day –joggers, walkers some with dogs on leads,picnickers, fishermen, all possible intruderskeep the plovers on the alert. A black crow waitson a nearby branch, its eye a laser beam. [End Page 168]
Colleen Keating is a Sydney-based poet whose writing explores the paradox and wonder of nature with harsh realities of life, justice, equality, and the increasing threat to our natural environment. Colleen has published six collections of poetry, including most recently The Dinner Party: A Poetic Reflection. She writes on Ku-Ring-Gai land in Sydney and Darkinjung on the Central Coast of New South Wales, Australia.
