Dried debris washed onshore
contrasts to playful life in the water
with the seagulls, black swans and green herons.
The first sailors called it a river
but it is rich with sea life
gentle breeze creates
sonorous calming whistles
none could escape the sailors
with a flow of the eastern wind
longing to land on a long shore.
I, sitting on a rugged rock
think what if the Americans had erected
Perhaps chirping of birds
would be replaced with discotheque music
sailors would be sailing only to filthy rich
putting prices high for each sailing.
With setting sun, imaginative thoughts
vanished from my mind.
My being fully energised
with rich fresh coastal air
I returned to my hut
where possums and koalas
were waiting in a gumtree
to overdose me with snarls and squeaks.
Wrapping with a blanket
I continued listening to their playfulness
until I fell asleep, living the Aussie dream.