Leaves flicker
Trees murmur gently to each other
Light breeze touching my skin
Temperature a gentle nothing
Greys and greens of the eucalypt
Dancing, swaying, pausing
Before cheering on the next wind
I cradle my tea cup. Soft smooth
Hot in my hands
The couch holds me with her faded cushions
And permanent indents
A sign of rest that sometimes happens.
Longing for the sound of a scooter rushing
Past, crashing into the balustrade
But no
That will come, tomorrow.