Gymea sky

Bud burst, pointing skywards

with blushing leaves unsure of when or where.

Opening shyly, nervously looking for light,

A moment of certainty

as older brothers push forth,

competing for the horizon.

Slowly over the next few moons

determinedly they grow.

Ruby red, crimson-crowned

they shine, lofty and aloof.

Silent sentinels heralding spring 

and the whales' arrival.

Just as they reach their zenith,

like Icarus they burn, cardinal blooms

tinged black,

crumbling like broken wings to the ground.