Kangaroos
And Now They Graze Near the Edge of Time
Glide always beneath your meaning
not burning away not consuming being ever being
Our story has no end and no beginning
We have learned the final skill
language of leaf and fur rising bole
We have learned the oldest thing
still
still
a riffle of fur on the far hill
a smoke-shadow
then nothing
We are becoming quiet as stones
Time stuns our paws, time flows
in shoreless pools around our ears.
Glide always beneath your drums, your smudged horizons
We disappearing we, all standing still.
(Macropeus Giganteus from The Birds at Pirra)