Republican Dreaming

For Mary Bamblett

In afternoon heat I'm under the pepper tree
tidying the bower-bird cubby house.
I neaten twig walls, whisk floors with a needlebroom
picked this morning from the playground pine tree.
I rearrange goblets of coloured bottle glass,
set out the teaset of precious shards.

Then you come, peering through trailing curtains -
feathery leaves, pink peppercorns.
I look up, smile, move a teacup.
'Say you're a visitor,' I say.
'Say I'm the Queen,' you answer;
'I've come to visit you from England.'.

I sit back on dusty haunches,
take off my invisible apron,
hold back pepper-tree branches in welcome.
'Come in, Your Royal Highness.
I've just made a pot of tea'.

First published in Redoubt.

© Robyn Mathison