.

This watery eyed bluff before me,

.                 accompanies the sunrise,

.                 like drips of dew falling from moist leaves.

.

With its green back turned towards the east

.      this mountain makes the most of the brisk morning breeze.

Knowing, soon, it’ll be encased in the fiery Australian summer heat.

.

It’s face still draped in darkness;

.                  a sign that this giant still sleeps.

.

The smoldering remnants of a bush fire

.                   clothes each crevice in blue shadows,

.        its rock walls lightly illuminated by the dawn.

.

Unlike the humans below,

        .this drowsy, cool mountain is in no hurry

to awaken this slow vista from its quiet yawn.

.

Decorated by the crowded sound of the Eastern Rosella,

.        the sky above it welcomes clouds.

Some grey and some white.

Some not yet visible to the human eye.

.       (The latter’s arrival only announced

.                      by an ominous, pink, morning sky.)

.

Even the laugh of Kookaburra,

.                      or the Galah’s collective chalkboard screech,

.                      fail to waken, with alarm,

.        this bluff and its plateaued peak.

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(©RL2017)