In the first few jetlagged days of being

back in Australia, I always notice the birds: 
the bright cacophony of rainbow lorikeets

the liquid alien throatiness of magpies
the dusty, distant, intimate confession of a crow.

But this time there’s something else as well—
as if the country is inside a dream

somehow sheared off from the dreamer. 
Like looking up one day in the backyard

and seeing an enormous airship drifting by.
Then cracking open another beer.