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CAROLYN STIRLING CROSHAW Returning to Mother Earth I curl to warm red earth among native bulbs and half-hearted rabbit burrows shaded by she-oak trees lay down on smooth-faced rocks freckled with drying moss speak in whispers to the rusty blanket near the grinning bones of kangaroos and worn trails to bull-ant holes and when the wind plucks me away I tumble with lovegrass spores rise above clay pot chough nests mingle with melaleuca and currawong glide in grateful silence to watch eagles pick my bones
CAROLYN STIRLING CROSHAW
Returning to Mother Earth
I curl to warm red earth among native bulbs and half-hearted rabbit burrows shaded by she-oak trees lay down on smooth-faced rocks freckled with drying moss speak in whispers to the rusty blanket near the grinning bones of kangaroos and worn trails to bull-ant holes and when the wind plucks me away I tumble with lovegrass spores rise above clay pot chough nests mingle with melaleuca and currawong glide in grateful silence to watch eagles pick my bones