THE DISH OF MORNING
We stayed there for a day or so.
The real world lay there far below
And shone at dawn.
The avocado trees deep green,
And all the other trees between,
Conspired to make a magic scene
That seemed reborn.
The cockatoos flew from the trees,
Borne on a eucalyptus breeze,
And we took breakfast at our ease
And eyed the view.
In front of us the tree-line dipped,
Maybe deliberately clipped.
And still we sat and still we sipped!
As dreamers do.
And many years have passed since then;
It could be nine, it could be ten,
But I'd love to go that way again
And see that dish.
That dish that held the morning light!
That contrast that was golden bright!
Those cockatoos in flashing flight!.
Yes, that's my wish
Another morning; another balcony here: