The brick paving in the little enclosed garden outside the sanctuary is alive with Life. Tiny, tiny toads, about the size of my little finger nail, are doing their thing. How they hop on those barely-there back legs! What power, what precision! What sort of a world is perceived by that minute nervous system?
Suddenly, this is there and that
and ‘I’ is toad toading . . .
Kookaburra starts cackling and breaks the spell;
goes off into great gurgling hoots of kookaburra-speak.
And again, this is there and that
and ‘I’ shakes with the cackles . . .
Life’s the only player here,
living the wild wonderment
of the ten thousand things.