Galbamaanup Lake Claremont
and there are clear skies and calm wind.
The water is still low. Hazily I make out
maali the swan. Many kwirlam swamp hens.
A couple of djiddy djiddy wagtails
down by the water’s edge.
Some smaller birds to the south.
I walk in this direction—the small birds
appear to be five nidoolyorong 
black-fronted dotterels—
the first I’ve seen this season.

Then a second swan.
The dotterels are pacing around 
in the shallows. In front of one 
there flies up a little cloud of insects
which settle again on the water
beyond. 

The wholeness of the place—
of the Earth—
also comes settling in.

Need I keep observing?

But then, nyimarak
the shelduck to the west—
and where there is one…
a second.

Kanamit the welcome swallow
flits over the water.

And then on a log directly in front,
a grey shape, 
on one leg,
wayan the white-faced heron.

This place made more whole.
Me made more human.

A foundation to build on
for what comes next.