By nine the eucalyptus already knew which twig could hold a nap. Koalas greeted the shade, nodded to the bench, and only then hung hammocks no wider than a leaf. Each guest took exactly one, and the next in line waited until the leaf had finished its quiet hour.
We asked at the kiosk by the gate. "I thought the tree had grown extra pockets," said a woman with a paper cup. "Then the first koala waited for the shade to settle, and the rest of the line copied the pause. My tea went cold from looking up."
The park keeper pinned a note to the bench: visitors may whisper, but please do not swing. By tea the leaves already knew one softer way to say good afternoon, and a small dog on the path practiced lying still under exactly one shadow.
The morning after, the same koala came back, greeted the shade again, and chose a neighboring leaf. The first hammock was still warm, as if the tree had saved the place.