The Home Paddock.

After the river

We walk up the hill

You in front

The gloss of your silt heavy hair

A firework, a flare

Lighting the way

And I follow

Cicada song

Fills my heart

Burning like bees

My bright honey blood

Sails ever onwards

Slow and thick

With longing

Our bare heels

Strike the earth

Like tiny hammers

And I am hypnotised

By the long grass

Closing quietly

Behind you.

 2011