Indigo waves, fluttering leaves,
warm breeze, blue sky…
I sat on a camp chair and saw so much beauty,
beauty that I witnessed in my half-awakened state
thousands of miles away in the south-east.
A mirage, a body of water, a lake, a stream
materialized from my semi-conscious mind
from where I lay on a soft carpet of grass
beneath a tree.
No need for reflection,
my thoughts were eclipsed
by a moment of serenity
where breath and spirit merged.
An elder sat me
in a camp chair to fish —
her meditative recreation in Country.
We were alone, nowhere somewhere land.
Hardly had I pulled the line thrust in my hand
when a giant sword fish caught my bait
and it tried, oh it tried with all its might
to escape its fate!
The elder asked me to fetch a stick,
the sword fish stopped struggling,
when it realized it was being detached
from the bait, and she glided
back to Country.
— north of Broome, 2010