"beneath the ladybird moon"

Beneath the ladybird moon,

the gumtrees sigh a lullaby

in dappled ochre light—

each leaf a whispered promise of change.

A single crimson mote drifts across the sky,

soft as a dew-kissed wattle petal,

inviting us into its quiet orbit.

We lie on cool grass,

toes brushing the earth’s pulse,

listening as magpies

wheel through shadowed air,

their calls weaving hope into the hush.

This moon is not borrowed

from science textbooks

but stitched from childhood wonder:

sweet, speckled magic

perched on a velvet sphere.

We inhale the eucalypt tang,

taste salt from distant seas,

realise that good fortune

grows in small moments—

the brush of a ladybird’s wing,

the blush of a turning world.

Here, beneath the ladybird moon,

fear unravels like spent silk,

and in its place we cradle possibility.

Tonight, every heartbeat

is a buoyant lantern,

glowing with the gentle guidance

of tiny miracles, urging us to trust

the slow unfolding of light.

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