I tried to talk back to the cockatoos chatting in the tree
by the back fence today.
They said something curt, possibly dismissive
and slipped away to the neighbour’s tree.
The door to the library here won’t keep quiet,
it cackles and shakes as if every opening is a joke.
A brief storm shook every tree in town
like a drunk weaving through a crowd at dusk.
The day is hurrying away across the grasses,
the sand and stony rises, already beyond reach.
Lightning reminds us of how broken the sky gets every day
despite all that shining polish lavished on it.