Scouting

I trudge upwards towards a full egg-yellow moon

then turn and crunch the ridge to the top of the hill.

Magpies swoop and squabble over territory;

bats flitter from among ancient trees, snatching insects

from the open sky; sparse eastern grey kangaroos

graze by the trail. The light show in the balmy

dusk is from factories near the airport;

guide lights for one plane landing, another circling;

parliament’s stare and along the valleys

the glows of Weston, Gungahlin and Tuggeranong; changes

of traffic lights, amber street lamps flickering

and steady white security boundaries.

I reach a sense of knowing what I see.

to scan below for hunting smoke and camp fires

lit by groups that migrated from one food source

to the next; from kangaroo to bogong moth.

Now the smoke is from burn-back to curb bush fires.

What I scan is not from trails of tribal groups

but for the thousands heading for city meals.

Paul Williamson