On the horizon

The smoke hovers in the valley,

unmoving scent in the air,

expectation heightening,

fearful waiting for the glow

on the horizon and the sparks

that fly relentlessly with the wind.


Memories packed in a bag that

sits in a hot dusty car, with the sun’s

hazy baking overhead and the

shimmering heat of the day

rippling across the fields and into

the dense bush that lies always waiting.


Smoke signs the horizon in orange

and then the faintest glow that grows

with the wind and the scurry of

animals across the landscape,

then the roar of the engine and 

the dust cloud that waves goodbye.