Old Tree house

Sitting in peace
the shade disappeared,
Far from above.
Leaves now gone.
Kids come around,
making a lot of sound,
then it all dies down.
From the branches, 
myna birds screech
at the Kookaburra,
who never screeches back.
From what I've seen,
they're way too keen.
And always barking
like a dog.
Stop that sound, Myna bird,
it's stopping our street’s fun.
Everything is still.
When they’re gone,
peace comes once more.