Gabrielle Gassin

In the grey of dawn

Nothing is moving, but everything is

And the air is dense with sound

And if you listen

Closely

You can split each layer

The whirring of machinery – an ice bath for the brave

And the very distant chur

Of vehicles driving fast

And flying creatures – they sing, so pretty;

The melodies

And if you look

Closely

You will see

A hundred bees

Busy at the palm, loading up on nectar for the hive,

Ants scurrying, zig zagged to their underground destination

looking frenzied, but far from it

And leaves

That quiver gently

With the whoosh of air that comes and goes

As a pair of singing honeyeaters

Speed through the gums

And a flock of parrots

Fly quickly home

And in five small minutes,

The clouds are violet, combined,

With that look about them

That on ground anticipates no less

Then water from high up above, and

With a moment’s pause

Those sumptuous purples

Sous the earth; the leaves

And each entity, living

Expected no less,

Than

Rain, today.