Suburban Park

I hide my face in bushes of green expanse,

Surrounded by the roaring cries 

Of metro roads. The sun that shines on my 

Vermillion face fades as metal cylinders approach,

Clashing, stabbing roots of vines

That have flourished on these grounds 

For centuries. Towers of brick and manufactured

Rock, recreating the world as shades of grey

And soot. As the moon invites a twilight

Night, a silver blanket which through my eyes I see

As I stride between the shadows of what once was:

A lush jungle with gumtrees and ringtail possums,

Where melodic chirps of galas and lyre birds filled

The air. Ferns brushed sage leaves that shunned

Great rays of golden honey along the red Country. 

Yet here I stay, scouring for scraps and rabbits

In the invisible cloak of midnight from which

A ship took me, journeying on the rumbling

Suburban streets.