My Eucalypt tree

My eucalypt tree is sound and calm, 
it sees the world through the eye of the beholder. 
Through the tremendous wind and pouring rain
and the murderous storm and treacherous flood.
My eucalypt tree has seen it all.
From whole, great rainforests cut down 
to a poor, innocent tawny frogmouth shot from high in its tree.
Every day I come and listen to the silent whisper. 
I wait by the trunk. 
I notice the great, beautiful mother 
painting a stunning rainbow across the sky, 
shades of blood red all the way to moonlit violet. 
The great Rosellas gossiping from high in the treetops,
the stealthy pythons silently mocking their prey, 
a marvellous pygmy possum staring at me wide eyed from its perch.
I look around and find it is late 
so I stand up and lay a kiss on her smooth wood trunk. 
“Thank you, my eucalypt tree. 
I know you did this just for me.”