Camped under a mandarin tree,
wind howling at night,
‘the doctor’ keeps us cool while a city exhales.
Feet treading a path on streets,
a familiarity beginning to be felt
as the grooves deepen and I can see my tracks.
A heatwave makes the ocean scream my name,
I can here it a suburb away.
Relief is measured in the rush of cool as I dive, dive, dive.
A band of gypsies occupy the backyard,
The sharehouse billows as we come and go, come and go.
Cabaret performers, revolutionaries and me…
Looking for the common thread that binds this humanity,
Seeking to understand our ways, our paths, our futures.
Being with Country 