Mum wants me to go for a walk
 
‘Come on Stella. You’ll be fine,’ she says.
 
But I don’t think so. In fact, I know so.
 
Going for a walk is downright dangerous.
 
There’s the noisy bird who shrieks and swoops.
 
And the house where the big dog barks and growls.
 
​Oh no! Here comes one of those machines that brumms and roars.
 
Phew. The park. That should be okay.
 
Uh oh. Stop that. I don’t know you. Too many sniffs and snuffles.
 
Can we go home now?
 
Not that way. Please don’t go that way.
 
Look out for the sploshes and splats.
 
Ouch! Quick run away from the clicketty, clacketty crabs.
 
We need to go home NOW. Can’t you hear the whooshing and whistling?
 
Plop. Plunk. Watch out! Darn those trees.
 
Here it comes. Spit. Spot. Rumble. Grumble.
 
We need to hurry!
 
Finally.
 
Shake. Shimmy. Fluff. Floof.
 
Woof! Dad I’m home!
 
Slop. Slurp. Munch. Crunch.
 
I’m exhausted.
 
Slobber. Snuggle. This is so much better.
 
Going for a walk is downright dangerous.

But maybe, just maybe, if we go a different way and you come with me . . .

I might, just might, try it again tomorrow.

​The morning sun shines on muddy banks and the village wakes, as the river flows.
 
Mothers cook pots of steaming rice and curries for breakfast, as the river flows.
 
Children hop on motorbikes that follow the road along the river bank to school, as the river flows.
 
Boats filled with baskets of fish and flowers putt noisily towards the market, as the river flows.
 
Barges piled high with sand and rock headed for the city are pulled along with the tide, as the river flows.
 
Dogs and cats laze in the shade of flame trees trying to hide from the midday sun, as the river flows
 
Storm clouds drift in promising afternoon rain and the air smells fresh and sweet, as the river flows.
 
Fat raindrops smack the Frangipani leaves. Beetles and centipedes scurry for cover, as the river flows.
 
The sky clears and swarms of dragonflies gather above bright pink water lilies, as the river flows.
 
The sun fades while fishermen pull in nets crowded with flapping fish for dinner, as the river flows.
 
The moon rises in the sky as the village settles and families share stories of their day, as the river flows.
 
Time for sleep now as crickets chirp lullabies and night brings dreams of tomorrow, as the river flows.

I was very excited to have my poem (hopefully PB one day!) posted on the Australian Children's Poetry website. Davey the Dunnart from Kangaroo Island is book 2 in a trilogy of picture books/poems about endangered Australian animals. Book 1, 'A Birthday Jamboree', is about Gilbert's potoroo or ngilkat, a small nocturnal marsupial that can only be found in the wild on Mount Gardner headland in Two Peoples Bay Nature Reserve in Western Australia. Dunnarts or djamins, are marsupials and are much smaller than potoroos. Kangaroo Island dunnarts are classified as critically endangered due to the 2019/2020 bushfires which severely reduced the population. 

Davey the Dunnart loved to play horn. He’d play every night from dusk until dawn.
Down by the creek he would jam with his band. Their sound became famous all over the land.
 
Roo played the bass, with possum on drums, Bandicoot swung on the harmonium.
Drongo would warble a sound warm and clear, Bat’s jazz guitar was smooth to the ear.
 
They’d come from the trees, from the Mallee and swamp, to jump and to jive, to swing and to stomp,
to dance through the night right up to the morn, all dazzled, delighted by Davey’s sweet horn.
 
Then one full moon night he didn’t appear. It seemed their friend Davey had just disappeared!
The animals searched all the places they knew - his burrow, the creek and the park rangers’ shoe.
 
But Davey was nowhere. He couldn’t be found. ‘Where can he be?’ his friends wondered and frowned. 
As night turned to day a smell filled the air. The sky had turned black. A bushfire declared!
 
Thoughts of poor Davey were put to one side as everyone ran to find places to hide.
The heat was intense with many homes lost, and when it was over they counted the cost.
 
All hope had faded. Then later that night the sound of a horn was heard soft and light.
‘Could that be Davey?’ asked Roo in surprise. They ran to the creek and tears filled their eyes.
 
‘Davey!’ Bat cried as both friends embraced. ‘We thought you would never come back to this place.
We thought we would never again hear you play! We’re so glad to see you. So glad you’re okay.’
 
His heart filled with joy as the friends gathered near. Davey’s small smile now stretched ear to ear!
He hopped back on stage, picked up his horn and blew that sweet jazz from dusk until dawn.
 
Back Matter: Did you know?

1. Kangaroo Island dunnarts are small marsupials who live in grasstrees, leaf litter and small holes in the ground.
2. Their species was only discovered 50 years ago.
3. They have dark grey fur on their backs and paler grey fur on their bellies, hands and feet that are almost white, a small pointed snout and big ears.
4. Their babies are called joeys and are smaller than a grain of rice when they are born.
5. Females weigh less than a fifty-cent coin and males are about half the weight of a golf ball.
6. Their indigenous name is djamin.
7. Dunnarts are nocturnal feeders and eat mostly spiders, beetles, ants and grasshoppers.
8. Before the 2019-2020 bushfires on the island, the dunnart population was less than 500. There are now thought to be only 50 left. 
9. Feral cats and land clearance are the other two main threats to the dunnart population.
10. The Kangaroo Island dunnart is considered a critically endangered species.

For more information on the Kangaroo Island Dunnart visit these websites:
Australian Wildlife  
​FAME
 
For teaching activities follow this link

They're back! Kaitlyn Sanchez and Lydia Lukidis are back with another Fall Writing Frenzy competition for 2021. To enter, you need to go to Lydia's Wordpress site, choose an image, write your 200 word story to go with your chosen image, and follow the instructions to submit between October 1 and October 3, 2021 11:59 EST. It's loads of fun and a great way to hone your writing skills and make every word count. 
Here's my story for this year. Don't forget to support each other by reading and liking as many of the entries as you can. Good luck everyone! 

THE FEARLESS FIVE: HALLOWEEN SUPERHEROES 
 
Green Devil, Pumpkin Bat, Skeleton Jack, and Buzz got dressed in their new outfits before heading out the door for trick or treat. ‘These are great! No-one will ever recognize us. Super sewing Buzz!’ announced Skeleton Jack. Buzz grinned. They all nodded in agreement. ‘Those evil, candy stealing witches won’t know a thing,’ he said, as the four heroes admired themselves in the mirror. Green Devil’s sister, Little Red, rolled her eyes as she motioned for them to hurry up. They quickly closed the door and started going from house to house yelling ‘Trick or treat!’, watching as they did so, for anything or anyone suspicious. On their way to the last house, someone screamed excitedly, ‘Ooo look! It’s the Fearless Five!’ Little Red wasn’t fooled, but the other four turned quickly and posed as the camera flash went off. ‘Mwha haha. Thanks boys,’ cackled a sneaky witch, as she quickly scooped up their baskets full of candy and zoomed away. ‘Drats!’ mumbled the four in unison, blinking away the bright light and kicking the pavement. ‘You guys never learn,’ sighed Little Red. ‘Guess we’ll have to share mine again. C’mon. Let’s go home.’ 

This story was inspired by an illustration from Yelena Wysling, a Swiss artist I follow on Instagram.
​Her work is simply beautiful.

Here we sit beneath our tree,
​Bee and Flea and me. Just we three.
Wondering, waiting to see what the day will bring.
A flower blooms. We dive right in. Pollen covers legs and chins. The smell is glorious. We all grin.
Bee and Flea and me. Just we three.
A soft, cool breeze begins to blow. We hear the trees sing soft and low, as leaves sway gently to and fro.
Bee and Flea and me. Just we three.
Raindrops fall but we are dry. They stop. A rainbow fills the sky. The colours fill our hearts. We sigh.
Bee and Flea and me. Just we three.
Standing on the grass so green, our footprints tell us where we’ve been. Toes feel cool and fresh and clean.
Bee and Flea and me. Just we three.
Before we go, in fading light, we thank our tree and hug it tight, then hug each other with all our might.
Bee and Flea and me. Just we three.
Turning homeward, hand in hand, we chat about tomorrow’s plan to sit again beneath our tree.
Bee and Flea and me. Just we three.
Wondering, waiting to see what the day will bring.