I see the galah in the tree,
The same time he sees me.
We are both perched high,
But I cannot fly,
So he is the first one to flee.
Actually he didn’t flee, so I kept writing.
He was just a baby,
And didn’t know humans are dangerous.
He tilted his head,
And determined me as
Focused on more important things,
Like feathers that the wind sets
And a wind that could toss him out of,
A tree full of shivers and sunshine.
I am glad this morning when I do not have to get up ridiculously early to catch a train to Sydney.
My mouth hates the taste of toothpaste and early mornings.
My eyes rebel against replacing the sun with artificial lights so early.
I like the way the sun gives us time to say goodbye to the darkness,
colouring the edges with orange and the middle with shadowed blue.