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.
We swarmed our cities with fierce intent.
Now, lone leaves, we are swept along 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.
The burning trees were inside us;
soldiers nursed koalas, and a masked girl in a boat sailed by.
The mask has been repurposed,
and people sing from their balcony.
The coffins line up
in New York, Spain and Italy.
These are times of gravity and grace.
As our activity slows.
the earth and its non-human inhabitants relax.
Humanity shines across a distance,
connecting through the gentle heart’s glow.
Walking to Lygon st,
sipping my coffee,
I pause to touch the silken-silver gums,
and caress a grey kitty.
Breathing the sweet nectar of orange roses,
I feel you
In strange times beauty is so clear.