Tuesday 13 February 2018

For the Hoodies




For the Hoodies
On learning of the deaths of MK’s chicks at Betka Beach, Mallacoota.

There’s something about these tiny courageous creatures,
Some imperative of instinct, some inescapable miracle of persistence.
Year after year they come to the beach. They scrape, they lay, they sit
At the mercy of the tides (which are incapable of humanity).
In the flailing fists of storms and the beating of the summer sun they sit bravely
Between the trampling feet of tourists and locals alike and
the thundering paws of all those dogs who “never chase birds”.
They hatch, defend, almost inevitably mourn
The tiny souls whose lives they cannot protect.

They can be forgiven for following their bird nature,
The pull of place each season, however hopeless it turns out to be.

And we?
We who are capable of change and choice, who choose to ignore the signs,
Who choose not to leash our dogs,
Who choose not to walk somewhere else for a brief, life-giving time -
We who pat ourselves on our highly-evolved backs, full of civilised self-regard -
We will never have half the courage and sweetness of these plucky little birds
Who struggle in the teeth of adversity.

We cannot be forgiven.

(c) Sue Hines 2018

Wednesday 17 January 2018

Littering over Summer



LITTER: A PERENNIAL PROBLEM IN A TOURIST TOWN

In the midst of tourist season I’ve a most compelling reason
To put forth a proposition to the people of this town
To avoid the awful bummer that confronts us every summer
We could bring in prohibition just to keep the litter down

Almost every can and bottle scattered freely through the wattle
And the Mallacoota beaches and the Mallacoota streets
Was once full of beer or bourbon and it’s messing up our urban
Grassy verges and the reaches of the natural world so sweet.

Tourists spend a lot of money but it isn’t very funny
When the trade-off is a heap of litter halfway to the sun
It seems the summer drinkers are the dirty rotten stinkers
Groups of bottle-dropping creeps with no respect for anyone

Every year when they’ve departed, groups of locals, broken-hearted
Get together to clean up the filthy mess that’s left behind
It’s our home, we want to share it - but we have to then repair it
After boozy litter-droppers of the grubby thoughtless kind

This harsh message I should soften, for the folks that visit often
Love this place for all its wild and pristine loveliness, it’s true
It’s the litter-chucking scum who should feel free not to come
Back to places they’ve defiled – and take your litter back with you!


© Sue Hines 2018