Awarded to

Susan Adams

Dangar Island NSW

Bird on the Run

I hide under the umbrella of leaves

together we tremble with the talk from the winds

there's a screech in the beaks of birds

fledglings want help,

but air is thick and heavy

and flee doesn't have the wing.

A garbage bin gutted,

crashed against tree lies still

and in this eviscerated stance,

becomes a kennel for the cower

of next door's dog. Its frightened tremors

reach me in the fibrillating silence

between each turn of the storm.

As sky inhales the rush and sends it back as rubbish,

cars arrive with the thrust of hail and hurl themselves

under covers. Panic is an upbeat - we each wear our own

while drivers risk hope and lose the race.

Sodden shopping bags burst. All are orphans.

Too late to hide under the smiles of gods,

I am litter to the gale, rain-struck.