
Dancing to sunrise,
grooves to birdsong in the breeze—
lemon-scented gum.

Dancing to sunrise,
grooves to birdsong in the breeze—
lemon-scented gum.

Echoes of laughter,
the city is hungover;
Sunday morning stroll.

Newly-found freedom:
hair colour experiments;
autumn is a teen.

You’d think the earth’s fine,
carpeted in greenery;
she’s shaking inside.