5 – sundays –

I’d say it was my quiet place, but it was so full of life.

the wind singing through the gums, the gentle rhythm of the cattle calling their young

the whoosh of wings gliding through the canopy, my breath echoing against my chest.

 Magpies warbling, a gang of opportunists,

and the laughter of the kookaburras, made the wild paddock the last pocket of bush,

this place of my spirit, my home,


– s.j.duncan –

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.