Words Never Spoken

Words Never Spoken

The air is hot.
Beyond the back paddock
black crows squawk in desolate request
for the moon to rise early.

Old grey kangaroo
hunches beneath sparse shade.
I scatter berries from a lilly-pilly tree,
place a bucket of water
close to his spot.

He raises his head.
There is something in the eyes.

I've seen that look before
reflected in a bathroom mirror,
have traced the same misery with erratic
finger tips on glass smudged with regret.

Should I take a chance?
Reach out to matted fur,
soothe the indignity of age,
unfold the silence with a few kind words.

Common language
is swallowed by a sudden dusk.