0700
Daylight savings crept in and stole an hour.
0600, 0700, whatever. The house is cool and quiet,
red pens and a pile of papers wait on the kitchen table.
Never look at the names before marking.
But red crosses slashed against random equations
says I know these were the back-row boys.
0900
Little Muttmutt monsters the pig,
nipping her heels and ears
a yapping David to her Goliath.
Balance the hens waterers under the tap,
they will need them all full today.
9 eggs by 9am – they get their work done early too.
1100
Warm milk, sugar and yeast,
cinnamon and cloves –
their promise fills the air.
Stretched and folded a hundred times,
the flesh-warm dough rests
slowly swelling in the tins.
1500
First of October and already the first cicadas.
A few clicks like a sprinkler starting
then they inundate the bush.
The wind whips up the dust
and a willy-willy crosses the road in front of us,
and disappears at the edge.
At the creek we skim stones across brown water
under a condensed blue sky.
The little one wades in to retrieve the best stones.
1700
NJ waves from the cow shed.
I leave a dozen eggs and a loaf in her kitchen,
little Muttmutt tussles with his buddies.
Back up the hill into a hot headwind.
We push through a wall of cicada-roar
into the eucalypt shade.
2100
Little Muttmutt swears at the darkness,
running back and forth yelling
faaark faark faaark.
Bunyips and the like scared off
he claims his dentastick
and curls up on his bed.
anotherKate 