Bushland in a Traffic Island

Colours of green, wearing the world.
The scent of rainbows. Last year’s fire.
Cinder mayflies. Discarded glass.
And honey pathways stamped by ants.
A twist of wind. A shake of sun.
The surge of sap to run in veins
of living green. Unconstructed.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.