With the drought dormant, October brings the cracking of shells, we find spent cases discarded in speckled shards or pale blue crush, calcified castoffs that break under impatient feet and adhere to soles. Rails shift behind a canopy of untouched scrub, Banksias flex to hold bird flurry; the gnarled old girls embrace new life. A eucalypt becomes a high rise, its demographic both native and introduced, there’s a density of high pitched, fledgling radicals, eyes bulging, ravenous, their helicopter parents an untamed swoop of wild colours that cut through bleached sky; we cover our human heads in defence and wince at the gust mustered by fleeting wingtips; a long-awaited avian appropriation of space.
by Suzi Mezei
Suzi Mezei is a Sri Lankan born Australian writer whose work is influenced by her culture and experience. Her work appears in several journals such as Cordite, Aniko, Hecate and Burrow and anthologies including Award Winning Australian Writing, Curiouser and The Sky Falls Down. She has won some prizes and her work has been performed on stage.