Tribal Recollections 1
The trees are standing in sand
The trees are standing in sand
and waving their arms.
They love me. Their deep green leaves
are up on tiptoe
the better to see me. My little dog
follows behind me, stretching
and hollowing his back.
His tummy is almost rubbing the ground,
he is so ecstatic. Over behind a boulder
a snake wriggles quietly,
keeping out of our way.
We try not to see him,
while staying on our side of the track.
My hair in the wind
streams out behind me.
I am gazing up
into the wind and into the trees,
up to their leafy tops
above decorated trunks
where rings of different colours
and strange patterns of bark
tell me their age and their health.
Eyes look out from the trunks,
where small creatures hide
in clefts in the bark
and birds perch almost unseen,
camouflaged, except
for one in the sky
hovering — ready to alight
or starting to rise and leave?
I don't know, but I see
the bird is watching me too
as I linger under the six tall trees.
as I linger under the six tall trees.
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