western suburbs windy as fuck
a dozen calm days in as many years
yes there is a flight path but that's not planes
that's the solsticial gusts
lorikeets raucous as per
the hills hoist of aussie myth
my feet in the sun
midgies slow spiral dance
i can feel the lengthening lingrance
as pollen from the second last flourish of umbels from the second last backyard gum in the street
anoints
this enclave of the enslaved
for us
the chosen few
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