A solo rower
blitzes across the Yarra.
Birds organise by species.
The weather isn’t sure what it wants to do,
and neither am I.
Watching girls learn to row,
affronted by second-hand weed and its
tenuous link to my youth.
A kingfisher watches with one distrusting eye.
Wish I could console him.
Wet leaves pasted to the earth.
A former love approaches
on a plane delayed by karma.
The things that are happening now.