Bottle brush tails

Leaves come to life in the light of a warm, welcoming melow breeze.
Slow dancing and swaying. Dangling like ornaments on a Christmas tree.
Flocks of cockatoos perched on the branches of a wise old tree.
All prim and proper.
The slow rise of the sun brings a new day ahead.
With more suprises and adventures lurking among every corner, waiting to be discovered.
Heavy blankets of grass and soursobs huddle together. 
With the dew of a night's storm trickling down.
Bottle brush tails, leaving trails in the lucious green life below.
Their backs arched with a mixure of thrill and adventure.
Their noses pointed up to the sky, they twitch once, and return to the cool damp ground below.
New sounds from all directions, feuling their curiosity. 
Each step they take, each pawprint they leave behind, leaves more than meets the eye. 
Memories, stories, to be chrished throughout history are left behind.
Out here, within the layers of sour sobs and grass I sit, listening to the soothing symphony of nature’s song.
I am calm, I am free, I am... Home.