Last Supper

It was that summer
when the river flowed for weeks
splatter of shoots
dot pattern on red ground.
Thickets of grass
wild green with the sun in it,
then a myriad of yellows.

It was in this yellow time, at Easter,
I strolled up a creek with friends.
Collected a stalk or two of each grass:
weeping lovegrass
cotton panic
neverfail
fairy grass
beetle grass
little bottlewashers
lemon grass
silky browntops
golden-beard
woollybutt

We sat under a river gum
our collection
bundle of incense sticks in the sand
two score and more.

On the verandah of the old homestead
we drew our bounty
Edwardian ladies
with a last supper of grasses
not yet smothered by
Mrs Couch and Mr Buffel.


©Meg Mooney 2003




©Meg Mooney 2004