Milky blue

to this place
feels odd in a way.
A part of me, some kind of awaress
is here
all of the time.
Never leaving;
always walking the murga scrub,
singing in the flood plain.

Milky blue
welcomed me back the other day,
left me with mouth open,
heart cracked open,
drinking in the colour of country
as I flew over Roebuck Bay.

seeing it when I thought I had none;
pulling me out,
into expectation,
taking me away from what is:
being here,

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