Breathe this here, now,
in. Breathe this paperbark-thin zephyr, skimming
the tops of waves, soft as a flute.
Breathe this here. Watch
the red-tailed black cockatoo
following his primordial nose westward,
toward the setting sun which unfurls in
the nests of eucalypt trees, red
Breathe this now. On days like these
sunsets light our lives on fire,
the half-moon cradled between
mountain top roads and all the metropolitans
built atop because they couldn’t be beaten
into the shores, bulging out like giants’ limbs.
Breathe this and breathe it out. Look
at the tail end of his black and red feathers, dashed
across the sky to places sacred and unknown. Act
now. Stand in the surf of progress. Feel
the dark flame flowing past, like a river of infinite vitality.