Imagine a moment; Your walking along an overgrown track,
Red sandy dirt beneath your feet ~ warm morning sun caressing your back…
The morning air ’tis a little bit sticky yet pleasant enough to breathe deeply with ease,
As is a normal summers morn in the Outback, as the birdlife flit where they please…
Thus as you notice a flock of inch high wrens in a bush,
Shades of blue and brown amongst the green,
You can’t help but wonder ‘would they be like a young chicken to pat?’
As they look so soft, delicate and light as they hop through the branches and preen.
Next thing you know a trio of parrots zoom just o’er head,
Enchanted by their multi green and yellow blur you follow,
Though never leaving your path for the bush can be dangerous ’tis said,
Yet you still watch these mostly green feathered beauties disappear into a tree hollow.
So as the grasses sway in the slightest of breeze with grace,
You continue upon your chosen track with haste,
For the morning now warms to the border of your comforts desire,
Thus for now leaving the bush to itself ’tis what it shall of you now require…
The Poetic Life 2.0 