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The tussocks
Well into the tussocks I interrupted ducks
One flightless teenager galloped across the water
And then an explosion of babies
And a mother who did the broken wing trick about a chain away
While I tipped an old cassoulet out for the fish
The rain dug itself in this afternoon
My smoker smouldering some McCubbin into a shin of beef
While ibis rose from the bottom vineyard
To perch on trellis posts in prehistoric rows
And Peter fed his horses as if everything was normal
Philip White
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