\"Eight Days in a Gum‑Leaf Blur\"
Monday tripped in, trackies still on,
mug of tea we swore was “brekkie” —
though Tim Tams counted too.
By Tuesday the kookaburras laughed at our to‑do list.
We laughed back, half because we’d done none of it,
half ’cos they nicked the dog’s bickie.
Wednesday… or maybe Thursday — the footy was on,
and someone burnt the snags debating
whether winter was actually over.
Friday arvo snuck past
like a roo through long grass —
then WHACK, Saturday hit,
bin night forgotten, again.
And Sunday?
Still August,
still us —
holding onto cuppas
and pretending Monday won’t notice.
.