Sydney

Sydney. Fair, clean, kept.

We stayed in the north. The Opera House, seen from across the water.

The office side, the morning, busy with feet.

South: shops, then more shops. The light rail almost the length of it.

Double-decker trains. I loved them.

April 30.

A short rain. After it, a rainbow, bright and whole, as if heaven were watching, kindly.

To see Sydney from far away, that I prefer.

I do not belong to this city.

This city does not belong to me.

And yet, when I press the shutter, for one breath, our times and our spaces cross.

On the grass, people reading, people sleeping.

On the sand, reading, eating, playing volleyball.

The day was clear. So were they.

Close to the city. Gulls everywhere. Houses bright with colour, in rows.

For me, an afternoon borrowed.

For them, any other day.

Quietly, I envied. Quietly, I was drawn.