Rain Days

There’s an irreverence in the air:

a galah tree without galahs,

unseasonal fruiting of crimson

sheen as eucalyptus flower,

as melaleucas draw lorikeets

in white puffs of breath,

as bats return after their

long reverie in the dark.

These days of rain play

counterpoint as I improvise


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As if spring had long gone and summer

just begun, drought’s visit came to an end

with cicada nights after rain. Now sky

settles strongly grey, an orange patina

fading at the end of a long season,

evenings of frogs and cricket peace,

reflections of jacaranda flowers

in pond flickers as drops flit like

daytime butterflies in the humid air.


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in which trees disappear

waking, lorikeets flew low to nectar

trees, berries spreading the sun

from umbrella flowers to a moon

ducking out of sight for the day.


a few hours later trees were

gone, mangled into a machine

eating branches for breakfast.


flying by, birds look down

on a gaping space, and move

on somewhere elseĀ  while I

ponder. All this needless loss.


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