It's common these days being roused from slumber by the various sounds of nature.  Earlier, while the sky still dreamt of stars and pondered the infinity of space, the first bird awakened and with a ritual chirp delivered news of the passing of darkness into light.  Swiftly the message relayed throughout the canopy's cool, green layers and with the brightening air sleepy murmurs of greeting turned to noisy singsong chatter.  I silently acknowledged the monsoon rains had broken and slipped back into comforted sleep. 

Now, hours later, I find myself under the gnarly old mahogany, woken once again by birdsong, this time too cheerful to resist.  Most days a confusing haze of mental details drown out the simple realities of life.  Modern banalities infiltrate and taint any enjoyment of my natural surroundings: radio voices tolling bells of doom; pressing needs and elusive employment; urgent repairs and impending weather. 

But today my mind is clear, fresh as the pastel sky above and bold with the optimism of possibility.  At moments like this a deep concentration overtakes my being until my eyes lose focus, fix instead on some invisible thought, and my body becomes completely calm. 

Immersed midstream between sense and imagination and open to the slightest sound and scent, in this trance-like state I can transcend the anchored mundane into libertine poetic fantasy.

A splash of plump raindrops on leaves above draws my attention skyward.  Squinting into the sunlight I witness a golden shower of dew spray down from the mahogany's upper boughs, still swaying from a kookaburra's spring into flight.  The pale kind sunshine, warmer now, thrills my skin until, eyes rolled ecstatically; I feel angel's wings unfurl and propel me upwards, feather-light, into the realms of breathless winds, swirling through rainbow blues and greens of an unearthly sky around me.