The rustle in the forest
The sounds of life,
Scurrying away
From my noisy passing by,
My clumping footsteps,
Disrupting the life’s flow,
Goannas running up trees,
Echidnas arming spikes,
The birds flitting around,
Bush turkeys scratching at their piles,
The place where life finds me,
Where I join this life filled world.
And I wonder, Why?
What makes me run away;
Or, bunker down in self defence;
Or, flit from one thing to the next;
Or, this deep desire;
To build my home from straw.
