Melalina

Evening robs the daylight of its breathless bluish haze In shades of grey the cicadas sing where night time meets the day In the fading light a kookaburra stifles a gurgled laugh And over the hill a plover screeches at a distant lowing calf. Silver spectres dance on the towering eucalypts And a humid curtain hangs like a rank and dismal mist And the tranquil scene is threatened by distant rolling thunder As the gathering storm prepares to tear the bush asunder. At first there’s just a hint of movement in the air Dead leaves shiver into life, to flee from earthen care. The air moves ever faster as it rushes to greet the storm And the pistol crack of a limb is heard as from a tree it’s torn. The anvil cloud is overhead and rain is streaming down And lightning tears a ragged path as it reaches to the ground. But the old man roo sits quietly, he’s seen it all before. He just turns his back into the wind and stoically sets his jaw. Just as quickly as they came, the storm