A gloomed gravity, rain reluctant, clouds darkened by Black Cockatoos, hundreds
wheeling overhead before crowning surrounding Bloodwoods and Blackbutts.
The sound, so loud, chases you, and up close lacerates at 100 decibels.
What they are waiting for? I don’t think I’m waiting, but how do you know?
We are about to breakfast with friends down the road, why aren’t they heading off
from this a communal get-together to feast on casuarinas, banksias, acacias?
They scream when excited, when there is a storm, rain, when they feel like it.
They scream when socialising before dusk, and this looks dusk-dark to me.
