#191 'Camp at Hand-Over'

#192 ‘Camp at Hand-Over’

orange moon looms

over the low horizon

coolibah trunks glow

ghostly in moonlight

cockatoos question

the new night air

my dreams are of sweeping

floods away

the red-banded brolga

dips its head to the grass

and leans heavily into a

lifting air

bobs up on it

tucks in those legs

and sends itself

serenely across our path

we wake to the full moon’s

thrown shadow over us

night never quite

taking hold

as dreams do