Poem
'Young Male Lyrebird at the Illawarra Treetop Fly', a new poem by Judith Beveridge
by Judith Beveridge •
He has his medley nearly ready. He has pieced together
his own fantasia, even if just from the sound of an owl
regurgitating a pellet of bat fur, a park ranger’s
jangling keys, the creak of cable strain when bored,
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