Autumn possums sheared branches of their foliage, branches that undulate through the air like rivers, and now we break or saw these branches, making space. In August the lightest yellow comes out on the wattletree at the window. Soft yellow so soft it almost phases into white. Is there a word? Straw. Champagne. Mimosa. For a fortnight the wattletree goes soft while we hurry-up breakfast, find our way to daily places, take calls, send emails, deal with mess, read about the real world, return and share and read and watch, or talk against pillows and sometime turn out the lights.