Whispering Through the Gums

Did you ever spot the old ghostly gum?

She sits along the dusty red,

Reaching her fingers up toward the amber sun,

And her roots deep down into the scorched earth.

The lorikeets sing their same old song,

Merrily perched high in her canopies.

Her branches stretch wide,

Soaking in the sun,

Her leaves rustle in the warm breeze.

As the sun begins to sink,

The lorikeets say their farewell,

Ready to return when the day falls new.