The scent of newly char coaled wood on fresh morning air whispers India.
A tarnished cloud shrouds the columnar city.
Beneath the ache, light electric tingling streaming up and down my legs. Chest and belly rise and fall in spacious rhythm and in the gaps, belly drums silently, the hollow pulse echoes in my ears. Eyelids slide down so eyelashes lace and rest in meeting. The black wave rushes in eager to take me away.
She stands centimetres from him, tilts back her head and scrunches her nose in response to words he has spoken only to her. A blunt black bob frames her porcelain face and powder blue eyes, soft and silky, radiate that invisible lover’s light.
In the middle of the city as the trams rumble and pedestrians ramble by, a rectangular pot of vibrant yellow marigolds, a temporary perch for twin sparrows.
Hanging from the handlebar, the idle helmet, laced with aged spider webs.
From the top of the Eureka tower, a kaleidoscope of rainbow-coloured stars, explosions of gold glitter then fiery amber stars corkscrew into the smoke-laden night sky. Australia Day.
The sky, cloudless, the colour of cornflowers, with no identifiable beginning or middle or end, no focal point, just this endless fading blue.
Early morning silence and the hazy down current of returning slumber interrupted by the rattle and thump of garbage bins being emptied and thrown back on the sidewalk.
The carriage doors are thrust open and rebound with a thump. A surly-faced girl makes a stormy entrance followed by a silent horde shuffling into all the spare spaces, shoulder to shoulder, upright sardines.
The northern horizon, obstructed by the concrete silos adorned and the Nylex clock, the concrete freeway overpass, dull grey apartment buildings interspersed by the dark forest green of urban trees, still rises above to cast an apricot glow.
A dozen sparrows rise and scuttle seeking safe shelter amongst the fern-like fronds of the silk tree.
|Bells Beach, Australia Day|
|"Hello sun in my face..." Mary Oliver. Early Saturday morning, Richmond.|