Into the bush, we listen…
As the water moves & slowly carves toward the city where we hold our hearts ransom.
And the brown rocks and red dirt get covered and shifted and dispossessed.
Leaves pile up uncertain how long they will be there.
And Movement happens like a classical piece minus the love, minus the emotion.
We breathe life and exhale into this world from the one screeching our names.
And as we move innocently the wind brushes past with force that makes the might trees rumble and your body shiver and quake.
And you examine time as a makeshift answer because society has its problems so each raindrop is a minute that teaches you to move faster until you need to stop and observe your footing and witness mushrooms shaped like orange peels and gumnuts chewed up and flicked casually by the rulers of the skies.
Do you think we make an impact as we step carelessly into a puddle?
Or nip an odd mushroom with our heels as it flourishes on this tough, gritty terrain!
Silence but winds & our footsteps as we make our solemn march home.