Full Moon Storm

Sivan, the month of milk and honey,

When we rejoice in the slow rise of the bread

And the cream of abundance:

Here I am at its full moon

In the middle of a howling storm.

Earlier I drove down to the river,

Which had burst its banks.

White-tailed black cockatoos wheeled in their flocks,

Shrieking like witches dancing between raindrops.

Two ten-year-olds 

In pink and orange kayaks 

Were paddling round the flooded playground.

Like Moses on the mountain peak, they sat 

Open-handed and open-mouthed with wonder,

Receiving the commandment-

That great command,

The only one worth knowing.

The one the pelting rain and wild winds are blowing;

The word I heard proclaimed in kaarak's* calling - 

The demand of life itself,

in all its rich unfolding -

Urging you to live

Live 

Live!

*Kaarak means black cockatoo in Noongar (the local language)