There is a stillness in the air,
a languid stillness
in which pendulous leaves
sway feebly
to catch each tepid breeze.
Two Adelaide Rosellas swoop
From shade to nearby shade,
brief sparks of life
in the blue haze
of lazy afternoon.
An ancient red gum
sheds a swathe of sunburnt skin,
revealing layers of whiteness
splotched with grey
indifference.
The sleepy lizard edges
gratefully
into the new-found shade
and shelters there,
waiting for the moon to bathe
such wounds of day
in silver.
Then shadows will awaken
and wide-eyed possums stare,
as small scavengers
scuttle-search for prey,
themselves reflected
in the amber eyes
of soft-winged spectres,
silent overhead.
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