Sacred cow

dreaming by the dam

black and shiny as a wet river rock

one would hardly credit legs so         tucked

under is she.

I mute the four-stroke

lean biker moll flat

on warm tank

legs tent pegged out

and rowboat rock

and daydreamdrowse

as sun massages back

Reiki hot stone haze.

The dam spreads dark Lilly-pad-wide

dragonflies play truck and trailer tag.

Abalone-edged shore and silt-milky water

where the cattle have stirred up silky clay, laps.

Breeze strokes frown lines on tea-tree stains - yep

know I should

re-rev

get going.

Young mum has just levered herself aching up

stiff hips ratcheted first then stilting up spindly forelegs.

She glares suspicion pointed my way

tail base raised in wary humped alert

and now I can see

there's a small puddled shape

streamer of pinked translucence trailing

wet-heavy-sticky.

Pseudo shadow-shape flicks a fly         from ear

so all's

OK.

Gippsland spring seep into my skin

moments of osmosis, pixelate

and photon in.

I will not die if I transplant

but perhaps I         will         fade

grow mind-membrane-cataracts

Silver Chair-myopia

so black swans' fluting calls will become bicycle horns

the cloud gathering dam just another damn

Cloud Atlas.

Will

All

        d i s s o l v e

                                into the muted mists of England

and will I one day swear that the sky this day could not possibly have been so utterly and surreally cerulean?