Falling Feathers

Perched on a tree branch is a bird known to few                                   

Fallen leaves lay lifeless on the ground

A flower sings as its voice is whisked away by the wind

A lingering scent of eucalyptus stands potent

                                                                           in

                                                                               the

                                                                                        air

Axes tear through trees like lightning running through the sky

I start to cry

We are forced to leave, my eyes settle on my past home

I start to sob

The Forty Spotted Pardalote shimmers, lighting up the sky with green and yellow

The axe is dull, darkening the sky with grey

Life changes, as in the flit of a feather my home is annihilated.