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.