hanging basket
a currawong teases out
more fibres
Leanne Mumford
winter fog
in the dry billabong
ghostly red gums
Leanne Mumford
unseen cicadas sawing the air
Leanne Mumford
coming home to Gweagal
—three fishing spears
Captain Cook stole
Leanne Mumford
morning round—
one by one I greet
the garden’s skinks
Leanne Mumford
sewing new buttons
onto an old shirt—
places we’ve been
Leanne Mumford
Echidna Tracks 