It’s cool in Katoomba

It’s four hours since we arrived and I still haven’t landed.  It’s cool in Katoomba and the sun shines around a mobile of cloud and kites of rainbows and the rain is another shape of feelings. We become tangled in knots of sheets like the unresolved talks in our minds, but a long bath from eucalypt heated water and deep warm sleep restores our balances. We work together making frames, it works us working, then we walk again in clouds beneath a sandstone bluff along the top of its tallus slope, where waterfalls veil us in wet crystals, where eucalyptus bend and sway in silver green cascades and in the dry shelters where those angular masses have fallen from the faces the rock glows reddish orange. It’s where cockatoos call in pips and squeaks and drop bubbles of song and the wood, it splits in splintering shatters…