Sculpture by Shoso Shimbo, Wye River, March-April 2016
Wye River both ways on the Great Ocean Road is hillsides of blackened trees. Growing spaciously where they seeded, bent, broken forms are all that remain. Black is not for argument. As we drive the Road this April an early analogy is currawongs, as though burnt branches were about to dislodge and fly off. At the house, for-real currawongs come to the decking in hope of food. The remains are wherever we go, stand on the railing with needy cries. They are keenly in search of anywhere green, gone again if there’s nothing to eat. Their yellow eyes see everything.