Choice

Night hangs like a blue screen,
fireflies flickering green.

Black trunks in the eucalypt grove
slide like falling code.
Is that a command?
I can’t see it.

Far off, the sky
stuffed with torn cotton…
A man and his dog drift down the path,
the dog’s tail dripping, swaying.
Is that two tails?
can’t see it.

On the dirty picnic table,
a snail’s trail glimmers—
a hint of a flutter.
Is that … a heart shape?
can’t see it.

From the grass, a cricket whispers:
Why footy in winter?
Because we choose to sleep through winter.
Why choose sleep?
Once you join the game, the choice is just … there.

What game?
I can’t see it—

Now I see it…

2025.12.10