It was dark when I woke an hour before the freight train rumbled by at 6 am, less than a kilometre away. I lie in bed and enjoy the vibration. I know all is well. This is my life. This is familiar.
The honeyeater outside my chalet door in Merredin, Western Australia, is not. Smaller than the ones I have in my garden, in the softest dawn light, his call is insistent and sweet. Under a harsher light, he is ordinary. Like me. In a garden filled with flowers, he knows what he wants. And, he is quick to seek it.
For a brief moment, he is silent and still. So am I.
We share the same space. Trust is a fragile intimacy.
I blink. The camera clicks. His company is fleeting, reinforcing the reality I face each day. I have no nectar.
His flight is as silent as unrequited love. I look away from the camera. I can only smile, because, he was once there.
Here’s hoping a memory makes you smile today. I know mine has.
Until next time,
A dawn bird