During cold morning daily lockdown block walk of crescent, avenue, street, terrace light [green] seeps an inch all over a prunus. Why town planners call any other street a terrace, I don’t know. Their ways are not our ways. Verbs come into play when looking at early shoots of green. Plums fountain amidst white blossom. Roses fight back, pittosporum bulges, poplars pop. Bare branches of unidentifiable trees slip, spray, constellate. Maples, maybe Monday. Other greenery is contrary. Jacarandas fritter, magnolias pinkify. An empty Flinders Street passes by with its sleepers wake sound. Clover comes from nowhere to win the day.
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