In every heart there is a coward and a procrastinator. br In every heart there is a god of flowers, just waiting br to stride out of a cloud and lift its wings. br The kookaburras, pressed against the edge of their cage, br asked me to open the door. br Years later I remember how I didn't do it, br how instead I walked away. br They had the brown eyes of soft-hearted dogs. br They didn't want to do anything so extraordinary, only to fly br home to their river. br By now I suppose the great darkness has covered them. br As for myself, I am not yet a god of even the palest flowers. br Nothing else has changed either. br Someone tosses their white bones to the dung-heap. br The sun shines on the latch of their cage. br I lie in the dark, my heart pounding.