Australian birdsong
Jan Ball
Two lorikeets chattering on our hotel window sill
this morning, the Sydney skyline a backdrop
for their posing. We sit motionless as souvenir
emu eggs in our delight, our own feathers still
ruffled from sleep, you in your colorful winter
pyjamas, me, in my flannel granny gown, but
neither of us nodding a green head or stretching
a crimson throat, only humming an Australian
birdsong in our chests to be back home.
