Precious Time & Parakeets

The green parakeets

Where noisy some mornings,

Filling the early silence 

With loud bursts of squaking.

She listened from a corner

Of her large square verandah,

Where she was out of sight

While having her bush tea.

The mint leaves sank

To the bottom of her mug,

Looking out at the horizon

Dawn made clear in her view.

Preceded by the dark hours 

When she’d enjoy the solitude,

Having chosen this the best time

For some precious time alone.

On mornings such as this

Things were put in writing,

And plans were revisited,

And revised and revamped.

When the parakeets moved on

Like they did every year,

She knew that their return

Would trigger self evaluation.

In their wake she still had

Morning tea on her verandah,

The quiet and cool air allowing

Calmness to refuel her persistence.

She did not break in the silence

Of the precious little time alone,

And while the tea warmed her

She worked out implementation.

The parakeets were gone,

And each morning until their return,

Silently stretching body and mind

After tea was still her favorite time.
Ria 2016