Old Clearing

Occasionally a bone would speck this clearing, relatively shiny white and new.
Everythings relatively new, this old cattle ground is only old because it once was a cattle ground.
It seems life and death is decided here quite often, it still is natures battleground.

This clearing is nature now too, as ants cover it and logs, dispossessed – and emus in the early morning.

Nature is monstrous, even on this dull cloudy grey day.
Nature has birds singing and trees rustling.
And a roo standing in the distance listening for its final threat…
Nobody wants to become a bone speckled on an old cattle ground.
What else but a monster can do all this?

Do you think an ant would see an ant bone and pervade a sense of terror among it’s ant comrades with its communicative glands… don’t they make a hormonal stench or something?
Nature is cutthroat,
Nature is a cut out old red jerry can on the side of the path.

Dried out dams spot the bottom of this clearing, the water’s path is clear for next time, when it rains heavily.

Colours out here invoke and gifts.
Green grants breath.
Red grants beauty and wonder.
White grants gratefulness, not bones yet!

The wind rushes past and through as if nothing could ever truly stop it.

Take A Walk Son.

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.