Glenn McPherson: ‘A Cathedral of Rocks’

A Cathedral of Rocks

A bush wren is taken by a golden snake
Before my eyes. Summer’s ugly heat is still
In the footbridge from yesterday.
Lantana, like emblazoned clown pubes
Or children’s coloured popcorn belittles
Such a death. In Australia, the black snakes
Are laconic but no less dangerous.

An obsession with origins is necessary
For the naturalist. Naturally, we consider
How the rocks were named, and when, for a moment
Then continue on to the beach—for I
Am no naturalist. Is it odd to hear
The dividing waves break so far off, as if
Filled with all the negative space of the cliffs?

Confessions of seafoam and weed, make
Themselves at home. It is no Sistine chapel
But it is always nice to have a little shade,
A little respite afforded by the cave.
Closing both eyes just enough could pass
For salvation of a sort, at least until the
Seagulls descend on the bait fish in the gully.

Then again, these too, form from elementary
Aspersions: birds dive while fish leap
Into…