In my backyard, rambunctious bottle
-brushes bloom for feathered mobs
and prissy wattles dot a plain
below a quandong studded craton
sliding east to the baked beyond.
Red-tongued native apricots,
gossipy desert rattlepods
and kookaburras cachinnate
in my backyard.
Some folk favour a backyard spot
to lock up nuclear waste in rock
but humpy camels remonstrate,
galahs guffaw, corellas prate
and all their neighbours yammer: NOT
in my backyard.
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