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Because it’s Christmas in Australia,
Yellow tree-fungi flowers in the sun.
The temperature’s regularly over 30
and bloody water restrictions are on.
Everyone’s stressing about pressies,
Chinese-shopping with demonic focus.
People moan ‘We’ve no decent time off’,
While banks rub their credit card genies for us
Hot turkey dinners are nixed for cold ham,
pasta salad, pavlovas and ice cream.
We’ve picked a spot on Mullaloo beach, a blanket,
some shade on cool cricket-pitch green,
The Swan Lager’s Cold and the 30+
Sunscreen is slapped on faces, arms, bums.
We're ready to pig out, sing carols, eat Christmas
cake, lie and bake in the sun.
We’ll cruise the hot boardwalks later,
sunset-cooled by the Fremantle Doctor
as you settle to a hot stuffed turkey roast,
raise a glass in a ‘G’day! ’ Aussie Toast.
Frances Macaulay Forde
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