Lake Illawarra

I see the bees carrying pollen into the hell fields

Bees are forced to make honey

I hear the birds chirping for food

Slowly starving themselves

The soft sandpaper bark

Scrapes my exposed skin

Slowly moving

A taste of nothing I can forget

The owl hoots around me

The birds chirp

And bees buzz

The old, wrinkly octopus splashes and makes waves

The weather is hot

I feel a sunburn on my old, peeling skin

from the hot aggressive sun

The squirrels are playing and climbing

the trees while dodging all their animal friends