The birdsong is harsh this morning.
Messiaen cacophony –
strident,
raucous,
squawking.
Crows, cockatoos, currawongs,
even rosellas
with their squeaky-toy voices
sound
so loud.
Perhaps they remember
my screeching last night
when I couldn’t make you understand.
And now my throat is sore
and you have turned your back.
The birdsong is harsh this morning.
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