
The game is afoot:
lorikeets and humans race,
spring sun births a fruit.

The game is afoot:
lorikeets and humans race,
spring sun births a fruit.

Sparkling golden hour:
the sun folds in on itself;
red wine stain remains.

Unfazed by the world,
extravagant monuments:
trees by city lakes.

Attempting to bloom,
spring putting on a brave face,
for winter’s last week.