Reposting this for Halloween:
Come gather round the campfire mates,
and we’ll share a tale or two.
And I’ll tell you one that’s true and straight,
of the Gundaroo ghost kangaroo. Continue reading
Reposting this for Halloween:
Come gather round the campfire mates,
and we’ll share a tale or two.
And I’ll tell you one that’s true and straight,
of the Gundaroo ghost kangaroo. Continue reading
I’ve written about the ghost kangaroo of Gundaroo before, that white beast that appears suddenly beside the road just after dusk. But this time, as it’s in response to the dVerse prompt “Poetics: Exploring the Narrative Voice“, this is the story from the roo’s point of view…
When the sun sinks behind the Brindabellas
and the darkness rises from the valleys,
I rise from my bed of leaf litter
and wait for the moon to light my path.
Then through the dry eucalypt forest
my footsteps pound like a heartbeat,
harder and faster as I cross the fields
to the Gundaroo road. Continue reading
Filed under poem
“to every thing there is a season…”
The spring rains have come,
bringing the turtles out.
And now their shattered shells
lie strewn along the road,
their flesh exposed
to the bloody-beaked crows. Continue reading
In response to Eugi’s weekly prompt “ghostly“:
Come gather round the campfire mates,
and we’ll share a tale or two.
And I’ll tell you one that’s true and straight,
of the Gundaroo ghost kangaroo. Continue reading