Overhead Palm fronds slap at each other Encouraged by the gently probing fingers Of the island breeze. The foaming white break Two hundred meters offshore Surges and sighs, A perpetual rhythmic heartbeat. It drums the coral below With the same tattoo It has played for...
Beyond the Jumbuck Ranges, where red dust swirls and stains, A boab tree grows, bottle-shaped, on cattle station plains. It’s stood there for some thousand years, a silent ancient scout, Observing ever-changing land of fire and flood and drought. Today, as every other...
“All right, mate?”
Dean blinked back a glitter of tears as the foreman’s calloused hand settled on his shoulder. The pine’s grain swam back into focus. He’d been doing it again. That thing where his mind wandered away to a dark, distant place he didn’t have a map for.
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