The smoke hovers in the valley,
unmoving scent in the air,
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.