Poem Category: All

camp site
a patch of burnt bush
wears waving new leaves

weekend camp
touching wildflowers
I cannot know the nectars they hold

camping
the colours of dawn
an incoming tide

camp fire
stirring the coals
I fall to a dream

camping
even in magpie songs
a cricket adds hers

open tent
at a dream’s edge
the caw of crows

camp fire
our tent’s shade
joins the mountain