Coffin Bay

maybe for its peace, its tranquility, something akin to death 

the waters are still 

the mountains are pink

there’s a desert haze in the air, as if nostalgia could be a hue 

the moon is risen and almost full

a whiteness in an otherwise cloudless blue sky 

if this wasn’t enough 

there’s a kangaroo watching me write this

and birds chittering their ceaseless songs

isn't it wonderful

that not only places, but people and colors and weather and entire ecosystems

can be a home