The Butcherbird Knows

The butcherbird knows
when we sit down to lunch,
perching on the plastic chair
to wait for someone's pity
or messy eating habits.
As the crowd thins out,
it grows brave and hops
onto the table to hunt
down globs of vegetable
curry and butter chicken.
It eats the largest bits first,
a smear of orange sauce
on its beak until it jumps
back onto the chair back,
rubbing its large, long beak
on either side of the plastic
like its sharpening a knife.
The food falls into its mouth.

The Cockatoos

Only when I hear the squawking sounds

do I notice the cockatoos in the scrub brush,

using their feet to tear loose small bits of plant

and raise them to their beaks for inspection.

The one in the middle of the group raises 

his head when I freeze on my path and I turn 

to watch them gather and chirp and browse.

The feathers raise on his crown into a crest

but he makes no sounds and avoids eye contact

as he waits to see what I am doing and I wait 

to see what they will do.

Before the Sunrise

Pre-dawn, the sky turns
golden; the water reflects
topaz tinted glass

The Beard Trim

A break in the middle of the day:
the chair yanked away from the desk
to sit in the bathroom above the drain
in the textured linoleum floor.
The razor hums and rattles faintly
in my hands as I ask for reassurances,
admit that I've never trimmed a beard.
But I slice through hairs, letting them fall,
as the pattern begins to take shape
and I have to stop because laughter
makes my hands jerk and shake.
Later, when the designs have been cut
clean, we look at the photographs
and start laughing all over again.

At the Pub

Sunday afternoon at the pub:
Australian football on the televisions,
the crack on cue balls on the pool tables,
the distinct smell of beer in plastic pitchers,
the simple stories we tell to newer friends
and old ones that have just returned.

The Promises of Thick Duvets

Two weeks ago, we wore shorts
as we gazed at the Milky Way
painted amongst the stars.
We wore sunscreen and t-shirts
and slept without blankets on our beds.
Our socks laid clean in the cupboards
and our air conditioners ran all night.

Now, we wear sweaters and jeans
as we scurry through the night,
seeking the promises of thick duvets
spread evenly on cool beds.

Cold Mornings

Just the thought of warm
feet on cold linoleum
drives me back to bed.

Amusements

I cannot name the birds
that appeared overnight
on the stiff, bitter breeze.
Their small bodies twist
and glide like fighter jets,
but they loop and spin,
stuck on an invisible
roller coaster of currents.
Dozens of them continue
the circuits for hours
with no sign of boredom,
no trace of fatigue.

Exploring Writer's Block

If I stare at the blinking black line
of the cursor in the text box
and I cannot find the exact words
or the appropriate perspective
and topic, it doesn't necessitate
an unremarkable day. Maybe
the day was filled with laughter,
games, vibrancy, productivity,
a stiff breeze on a cool day,
moments not captured on pages,
moments not quite unforgetable
but still worth a few remarks.

The Wedge-tailed Eagle

Over the grasses that crackle in the breeze,
a lone eagle soars over a large shrub.
Its mighty wings flap in measured beats,
but it does not move, muscles straining
and working so it can stay in one place.