Post-dawn, I look out at the field of grass and shrubs,
ominous in a place with so many deadly creatures.
Weeks have passed since I've seen a kangaroo,
other than the one tipped on its side at the edge
of the main road, its leg stiff in the air and bent sharply
at an angle too awkward to have been usable anyway,
but this is the perfect time to spot one hopping
in the trace of light before the heat burns down.
For a moment, I think I've spotted one, but I decide
it's a rock and the pink sky has changed the coloring,
because I wouldn't spot a kangaroo on my first try
when I'm only looking because I'm a passenger.
Yet, the reddish lump moves, growing a bit taller
and I can make out the curve of an ear on a head
that has appeared from behind the rest of the body.
The kangaroo doesn't move as we drive past
and the sun continues to slide into the sky.
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