Paid for by patrons
The colours of dawn in the countryside are a delight: sky lemon, tree ochre, miasma pink across the hills, those brides of night with its innumerable stars. Then like a fantastic trumpet the sun disarticulates our nocturnal phase, so the parakeets and the shadows run brushing the bush on the blare of its rays. But how different the time after morning when the sun quells any urge to elope, and kangaroos silent as mannequins lie hidden in the expectant landscape. Just so might a fresh sensation flutter through the new-waked mind and seed an idea.