These sky-blue plastic ribbons tied
to native hop and fragrant pea
translate to commerce – ruler-straight –
across meandering contour lines.
Spring’s here. For now there’s chattering
high up in the eucalypts,
no inkling of bureaucracy or trade;
the going price of woodchip;
grid-points. The blue gums are in flower –
the quest’s for nest-holes in the farthest limbs.
(Wielangta Forest, Tasmania)
Somewhere on someone’s desk, there’ll be
a map of these quiet hills,
describing every dip and rise,
each stream and knoll and rocky gully.