My special place

The trees whistle at me

sad and lonely 

I throw a twig into the crystal water

Watching the stream run away with its new toy

I wonder through the tunnels of trees,

little white flowers fall into my hair like snowflakes

I swirl my fingers around in the dark red soil

Mixing it with water to create a paint-like paste

I skip past the glistening palace of the bowerbird 

as she sleeps, proud of all the treasure she has found

Dark descends, the shine of the moon

reflects in the still water

Time to go home.