
I walked, insignificant beneath
giant eucalyptus,
peeling bark hanging in strings,
revealing subtle pinks,
oranges, greys.
Through tree fern gullys, tracery of
fronds filtering the sun,
shady green, dappled.
And everywhere, birds flitted,
colourful, exotic to my eyes.
The parched fallen gum leaves
crackled beneath my feet.
I was almost, but not quite, lost,
weary after hours of walking,
but now heading in the direction
of home.
My head was full of colours and sounds,
the smell of eucalyptus
welcome in my nostrils.
And then, a familiar call,
a stirring in the trees ahead,
the sense of being watched
a glimpse of movement,
and suddenly I was surrounded
by black cockatoos.
I stopped in wonder,
in awe.
I must have spent an hour
watching, camera clicking
while they chatted and pecked
and clambered around the branches.
They knew I was there.
They didn’t care.
I was the one who was
blessed by our meeting.
Lovely painting and poem, that’s the way I feel, that it’s us who are blessed by these meetings.
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Thanks Andrea. I still feel blessed, even though I saw those birds 5 years ago.
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Ditto for me, Andrea and Sarah! 🙂
And this is all luscious.
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