Tuesday, October 15, 2013
This is not a day for making plans,
This is a day to sit and ponder.
Leave the overflowing chores -
get out my friend, and wander.
This is not a day for lists and people,
the things that cannot wait.
No rushing 'round with dates to keep,
sending texts and running late.
There's nowhere to be, there's no one to see.
Your inner voice has been waiting on hold,
Fed up with waiting far too long
while you're busy fitting the mould.
So, leave your shoes by the backdoor,
and follow the overgrown path
through a thicket of paper daisies,
past the currawong taking a bath.
Fill your lungs with the perfumed air,
with jasmine and sweet citrus blossom.
'I assure you there's nowhere to hurry to'
mumbles a sleepy ringtail possum.
'Unfurl your wings!' says a cabbage moth,
as it flutters downwind on a breeze.
It sideswipes your cheek as it passes,
and dodges a cobweb with ease.
High in the treetops, the rainbows natter
'Spring is dry this year' they say, 'and hot.'
'Oh here comes that animal who collects all those things,
then complains for more time than she's got.'
'Leave her alone' says the raven
'Can't you see her head is too big?'
They reckon their brain is so pointlessly large
they're only as smart as a pig.'