Corellas
In the morning, gangs of corellas teem across the sky. Disorganised. A welter of screaming white cockatoos that can be heard approaching long before they pass overhead. The corellas gather like delinquents in the carpark of the feedstock company on the other side of the railway. They clumsily strut and hop around the bitumen collecting the spilled grains that are lost from the silos when they load the trucks. Later in the day a pair of timid rosellas collect grass seeds from the chaff of our dead lawn until they are startled and disappear into the parched distance.