Sydney, New Year’s Eve
Feet lick the middle of the street
and drips click in glee
now the downpour’s done.
Dashes from the terrace,
with the red door,
the pops and crackles
of the night’s, everyone’s, splendour.
She stops on the pavement
at the upper end
of the in-between park.
Her gaze —
beyond the burgeoning bins –
full of Christmas olds, unwanteds –
through the smell of warm, damp earth,
through the weeping gums silhouette,
and passed the city Tetris lines
Before they flash and disappear into points
The city like bejewelled children’s blocks charcoaled.
Hold their light like a ballerina,
for a time suspend, slow motion
finally they lurch and painfully dissipate —
we grasp with our eyes
and ache for more.
Her heart skips, breath,
in happy familiar.
Wet feet are no nevermind
as these bursts at the end
of her new street,
from the terrace with the red door
this was a good year
the year to come home
to the home of the first main
sky fire dance of the hopeful globe
Seeing this again, from here:
It was a necessity.