A poem about Darwin – enjoy
Still dark now
People waking, emerging from dreams
slip from ruffled beds, disentangle from sleeping partners.
Garbage trucks begin their guttural rumbling trek through
a snoozing suburb.
sun fingering in through dawn-clouds
Streaky bacon sky.
Alarm clocks shrill
clock radios spring into life
walkers, runners, riders invade the streets
silently pounding, arms swinging, regular breathing
swimmers plough up and down backyard pools
The day begins.
the flat blue horizon
Storm clouds roll away across the heavens
leaving the suburb coolly sighing in the moments
before the sun bursts upon them
firing up the day
firing up the week
firing up the temperature
so that by the time people step
from their morning showers
before they can even dry the water from their bodies
sweat is rolling down their skin.
The morning smells sweet
clear, crisp, lighter than the night
velvet blue-black smells of the night.
Inhale the refreshed gardens
the flowers releasing cleansing perfumes
filling the nostrils of the waking streets.
Later, children strolling
spilling from cars
will breath in this morning air
smile and be revived for the week’s work
All – children, workers, mothers, babies, students, unemployed –
as they find their way in the world today
will be buoyed by the night storm
the fresh smells of their suburb
the bright blue of the sky
and go happily about their business today.
But now dreams are scattered with the early morning light
lost, taken with the dispersing clouds
only snatches left,
disturbing tendrils to bother and mystify throughout a day
busy with the needs of work, of other people.
Ah, to sleep the extra five minutes
to save the lost dream
the door to the soul, to dark wishes and desires
the book of ideas and inspirations
the path to the future (image from Google images)