On this moisty Under Milkwood morning br I walked buoyantly, br briskly br through late summer bush. br br Recent rain br had settled the dry br and grateful leaves br sighed, br new-washed. br br On the uphill side, br the aged eucalypts br stood sombre br and wallaby grey - br untouched by last year's furnace. br br On the downhill side, br charcoal br hollowed ghosts br genuflected, br leafless and barren, br to their god, the sun. br br While bold young saplings br black and supple thin, br sprouted epicormic br new green br as if to say br I am br I am. br br A chorus of air-born squeaky toys br broke the silence br and br in the distance, br dawn danced.