Strange Times

Upon a balcony in Brunswick, I soak up the last of summer.
The slow drone of traffic
is pierced by a siren speeding down Sydney road.
This sound used to remind me of the thrill of New York City.
Now it signals one thing.

Strange times we are living.

Not long ago the world was mobilised by a girl with a hand-made banner.
People swarmed their cities with fierce intent.
Now, like lone leaves, people are swept along the emptied streets.
The girl stays home and we do the same.

These are biblical times.

Human and animal flooded Australian beaches,
cloaked in a pink-blood sky.
As we breathed the burning trees inside us,
soldiers nursed koalas,
and a masked girl in a boat sailed by.

The mask has now been repurposed,
as people sing from their balcony.
And the coffins line up
in New York, Spain and Italy.

These times have brought both gravity and grace.

The earth and its non-human inhabitants relax,
as our activity slows.
Humanity shines across a distance,
connecting through the gentle heart’s glow.

Walking to Lygon st,
sipping at my coffee,
I pause to touch the silken-silver gums,
and caress a grey kitty.
I breathe in the sweet nectar of orange roses,
and feel you feeling me.

In strange times beauty is so clear.


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