Damp bark, wet leaves, a mass of green-ness.

My fingers graze pillowy moss.

A butterfly flutters,

A gentle breeze from her gauzy wings

Against my cheek.

She glides towards a rushing waterfall

The murmuring of the water hushing me

Like a mother singing me to sleep.

A red-browed finch chirps, its long pointed sapphire tail

Twitching to the beat of the waterfall’s gush.

The corner of its beady eye catches a worm,

A pink wriggle in the dirt,

And it plunges- too fast, it’s a blur.

It scoops, spaghetti in its beak, and lands

Softly on lush algae, emerald sprouts on a branch.

Down below, a crocodile floats

Like a raft,

     And I drift too

Through the magical world

Of the Daintree.