City buses power down Albert Street. Bicyclists veer
single-mindedly anywhere. The big 3am storm washed clean Gisborne Street, sticks
and blossoms flooded against walls. At the wayside cross double jonquils have
fallen everywhere. Time to consider the mess, only takes a minute. Coin-leaved
acacia and pink Geraldton wax we reposition in a vase. Jonquils go back in a
halved fruit juice bottle. Jam jars of rainwater await fresh offerings. Tidying
done, quick glance at the figure: who is the king of glory? Then on our way. Bureaucrats
bustle southwards, analysing September’s leadership spill. Wind in tall trees
promises more rain.
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