Songbird Alarm

After it rains for the first time during a fire filled summer, the morning songbirds are the most beautiful alarm.

A thick smog traps the heat of dazzling golden flames, that boldly lick the darkening sky, giving the horizon a soft glow. The night becomes filled with black clouds that only let the ghost of the moon swirl through. Drizzles of rain patter down, bringing with them the tiny fluffs of ash and smoke to rest on the white car parked out front. A gust brings a carbon leaf to rest on the back porch. The dog tries to catch them thinking it is a game that he is playing with the gods. The golden glow, that was never truly a threat, dims to blurred spotlights as droplets pass in front of streetlamps.

For a moment the sky is still before it opens and releases all its pent-up grief upon the South Coast. A swarm of apology is released upon the burnt bushland, coating the blackened trees, sweeping the ash from their sore bodies and washing the fire’s tantrum downstream. The rain feels frigid against scorched stone paths and asphalt roads causing the still hot, melted cars to send quiet hisses into the ambience. Blue and red flashes a top red trucks blur behind a curtain of clear darkness. The droning sensation of the downpour allows for the held back tears of terror to twist into drops of hope, they are silent, but shed over a globe.

The drowning ‘hush’ of the rain that is rocking the coast to sleep is momentarily blasted with a crack of lightning that hits a leafless tree in a nearby paddock. It is at a safe enough distance away to not be harmful but close enough to the mountain that it is heard twice. The echo lingers and shakes local sleepers with dread. An orange halo slips from the tree, yellow fingers begin to claw at the dark surroundings, not being daunted by the onslaught of defending rain. A ghastly red light spills from the core of the tree, through fine cracks that are outlined in orange, sending streams of amber across branches. A loud snap of a branch causes little red embers to burst from the centre hollow allowing the red parasite's form to emerge fully. The fading embers fall to rest in raindrop beds, that are laid around the base of the host tree, not allowing further damage to spread. With the red parasite's core exposed, the tears of the sky send it back to the nothingness it started from.

Sunrise comes in golden beams, sending rays of rainbows streaming across the yard. A songbird chorus begins with a single bird's twitter but is steadily joined by more calls. The clouds become translucent wisps and are carried away by the breeze that brought the carbon leaf. The silent rumble of thunder is felt in the air making every morning breath fill with an electric tang. The last remnants of a grief-stricken sky lie in droplets that slide down streetlights, off of evergreen leafs and drip down drain pipes to the swampy ground. With a noisy yawn the songbird morning alarm is silenced.