Bora born
Night rain _
The roof of the shop next door extends through
time worn spaces from this old rooming house.
Windows wide open, curtains pulled aside
the winter breeze lets you know she wants in.
In these wee hours distant sounds fill the night.
Street lights chase shadows around the room caught
in the flip flop dance of curtain fabric
helped by a desk fan's constant to and fro.
Corrugated iron roofs sound scape night life
rhythms settle somewhere inside sleep mode.
A curlew's wail penetrates the chatter
of lorakeets woken from sleep nearby.
“Rain's coming,” made in their ‘Dolitle' speak.
The dull distant roar changes pitch then spits
thumb tacks on the roof next door, spent ice cold
water drops determined to get inside.
Spits break to mist from the down pour's fury
fresh on the face like a Macdonald's wipe.
The doona cosies up body warm, tucked
in a dream's relaxed smile born outside in.
- O -
© 21st sep 2013 _ Nhawrr yirrpa
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Night rain _
Night rain _