Inspired by the beautiful lyrical writing in 'The Overstory' by Richard Powers and the gorgeous Dandenong Ranges where I grew up, please find my short piece 'Lyrebird' below.
This piece was written for and selected as part of the Writing RidgeWalk project, run by the Yarra Ranges Council.
Five local writers will be featured alongside commissioned works to comprise a living anthology of the Dandenongs as part of the RidgeWalk creative program. Later this year the anthology will come to life as an immersive experience along the RidgeWalk track, allowing you to rediscover the Dandenongs through the writers’ words.
It is early and the bush is quiet. Time unties itself.
A lyrebird scratches, turns over leaf litter, shifts, scratches again. Its plume catches the light, feathers shining in the morning sun.
Drops of rain shiver on green before drying out and fading away.
Colourless light glistens through trees, opens, closes.
Everywhere and everything is alive but there is hardness running under it too, an edge.
Nothing will break here, not like that anyway.
The lyrebird shuffles, foraging, methodical and focused.
The world spreads out; there is movement above the bird and movement beneath.
Bark swirls,trees widen, and patterns unfurl, the shape of the forest shifting as the lyrebird works.
There is silence. The lyrebird pauses; a burst of sound. Music echoes, filtering through the trees. Like the day, it is ever changing.
There are so many ways to branch out, to come undone. Later when night arrives, it will be heavy, solid, open in its own way. The lyrebird will rest, still and silent.
In and out, the bush will breathe.
The bush is always breathing.