Tag Archives: the hours

0900 Christmas day

The tinsel-scattered glitter
of Christmas-eve candlelight
is dispersed now,
turned to dust by the sunlight,
waiting to be swept up
with the crumpled wrapping-paper
littering the floor.

Outside, a few lazy cicadas are still warming up,
their
click-click-click – buzz… pause (repeat)
like a playing-field sprinkler,
steadies and merges with the background roar
of their thousand more punctual siblings. Continue reading

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0500, kookaburras and roosters

I cannot sleep with the window closed anymore.
I am stifled,
drowning in the bathwater-warm,
human-scented air.
Open,
all night a cool breeze drifts gently through the room,
carrying the melancholy sighs of a thousand eucalypts.
But before the sky even begins to lighten
to the silvered-grey hues of the brittlegums,
the kookaburras hurl their song through the window,
shattering my dreams into disconnected shards,
scattering their laughter
like seed-pearls.
Until the roosters add their shrill dissonance
to the raucously hilarious dawn,
compelling me to close the window.
And wonder
if my hatchet
needs sharpening.

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2300, still 30C / back of the envelope

dragged from sleep by the heat,
the still air drowning me, Continue reading

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0900, 30C

The westerly that has flowed,
cooling and caressing,
lulling us through the small hours,
has warmed already,
heated by its passage
across the already baking land. Continue reading

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