Is In Its Proper Place

Sporadically the plop of avocados
dropping from the top of trees too
tall to pick penetrates an ambience
I like to think as my reward. Crows
call raucously in eucalyptus trees
along the orchard edge, blending
into distant green, completing this
pristine actuality. I ‘m pleased with
what I see at dawn on a dull grey
morning – the World awakes with
a wry grin, smiles obliquely, says
“G’day!” Dogs compete for space
to sleep that final minute free in
peace before a retinue of pressing
needs demand relief. Quiet is thus
complete, I am at ease, everything
I need to lead this fulsome life
is in its proper place.
© 20 December 2007, I. D. Carswell