He gazes towards the horizon,
That handsome little kookaburra,
Remembering the years long since gone
As the wind rustles his soft white and muddy brown feathers.
His nose picks up the songs of the ocean
And the land speaks its ancient tale,
As a new day begins to creep
And the world begins to wake.
The lines that cross beneath the earth
Nurture the land with strength and health,
The energy that flows beneath the soil
Can be felt by even the smallest of babes.
The dark ocean below moves in slow motion,
The rhythmic crash of white on black folding back into blue.
In the gentle distance, whales tease the eye,
As they dance beneath the waves.
The skies are painted sweet tones of innocence,
Creams and pastels and seraphim hues,
Not yet harshened
By the moods of the day.
And on the opposite side,
Ominous cumulonimbus clouds gather
And thunder breaks the peace
Just as you think it’s all over.
But wait, oh, here comes the sun,
Behind the curtain of blue,
Framed by the clouds and
announced by angelic white light.
And still here he sits,
That lonely little kookaburra
Looking ahead towards the new day.
Saluting the sun and basking in its strength
Wondering if maybe, just maybe,
He too could fly and touch the stars
~ A poem written as I watched the sunrise in Byron Bay, Vadrine Boulle