Wye River
memories. A koala parks in a she-oak by the Great Ocean Road bridge, bold
outline amidst spindle foliage. In another April koalas settle in treeforks
behind the house, eyeing the eucalyptus smorgasbord. A crash through scrub is
falling koala, about to bounce back into shape. A koala howls on Paddy’s Path
above the sea, protecting its young, unseen and unheard. Koalas siesta. In
August we can think we hear them lumbering from treetop to treetop. A koala has
a sort of cantering hop on ground, steady but too slow for a fast-moving
bushfire. Paddy’s Path is blacked out.
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