Black nostrils flare in the cold night air—
twin sockets, damp and eyeless, follow
the fading veins that shadow each thing.
Tonight, redtail swims in time’s wash—
with the rabbits asleep in the dusty earth
and the taipan’s kill, four hours cold.
She traces a farm dog’s boundary line,
a week or more old. She charts a mosaic
of marsupial terror while the stars wheel
in their icy arc. She scents my vigil along
the treeline and waits as our lives fade into
the fragrance of dawn rain not yet come.