• she, the sky,
    unfurls shadows
    tendrils of cloud telling stories
    too often left untold-

    piercing together all the little signs
    (like the flick of a switch, and black or white, and the chasing them away only to call them back, and aching-needing-begging-denying, and fast-paced minds that race on ahead running their own little marathons leaving you
    somewhere in the middle
    with no real track left to follow).

    changeable, she is the fickle Melbourne sun,
    her influence equal parts cruelty and kindness
    (or so it seems when you push and pull),
    the wind of change dancing through your moods
    and your rebellion inspires a bitter entanglement-
    harsh need and desperate fear
    (who are you, you
    who daily bathes the waters of guilt,
    who are you
    to deserve anything at all?)

    and so under her caress, both
    stern and forgiving
    all at once,
    under her guidance you bend and wave and
    bow to the strain

    while elsewhere
    another butterfly
    flaps in the chaos;

    another bit of change-
    you're bent just that little further
    than you ever considered possible
    yet somehow,
    even as you wait for it,
    you never quite