July 29, 2015
Not all the posts are stories from travels outside the country. The Blue Hats like to go anywhere and everywhere. This is a poem written during a camping weekend in lake country south of Geraldton.
The milk white sea is still
Watered savannah separates land from sky
Colours soft muted melding
Crisp only where reflection weaves it's morning story.
On the earth parched patterned ground shadows fall
Bleeding from the forms in flicker
Sound emerges long low, lowing, glowering from branches torn and tortured by many mouths,
made for many mouths.
The song of the milk white lake disturbs the rising sunlight
Scattering sand motes across the low sky.
Feet slapping a rythym ancient long footed song
Return the beat of the ages to the lake
Staring into eon distance
Dance dance tapping beat echoes throughout the song of the milk white sea
"Very bright out here", she says, shading her eyes and eating the marshmallows left over from last night's fire.
And The Dutchman plays the didge
I'm busy working on my blog posts. Watch this space!