DESERT SPIRIT

The drone of the didgeridoo

The call of a cockatoo

The roaring across the plain

The sound of desert rain

The clap of thunder in the sky

Bring a tear to my eye

The breeze cools the desert air

And I gently run my fingers through my hair.

I shudder, for I know not why,

As an ancient spirit wanders by

And as he does,

He looks at my colour,

He is happy

For I understand how the stories came to be

And their relevance to him,

And the land,

And me.

By Emma Dalton