by the back door of the former school house
chooks hide in a tiny pen
safe from predator and wild dog
safe in the knowing that Gabrielle
and foxy Millie are a match for any real fox
who might nightly visit and sniff a meal
well fed on scraps and grain
In daylight they safely roam
as chooks in yards are wont
and in company of humans
who also wander beyond
fencelines, past vege gardensalong creeks which fill and flow
and die and slowly empty of
ducks and native fish and murmurings
until November rains flush another dry season away.
Across the way
A red backed wallaby
colour picked from the palette of rust in the nearby shed
sits and sits as I stand and stare
my camera waiting patiently at maximum aperture
at a shooting speed set for the setting sun
and refuses to look at me
declines to turn
defiantly pretends not to notice me
while all his brothers and sisters flee
bouncing through fields of pale grass
towards once-were barbed wire fences 
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