(A thank you to V)
We walk & talk
until she stops
beside a flower
to smell or gently touch.
Or to trace
patterns & colourations
in bark
(have you seen
the hieroglyphs on
a scribbly gum?)
**
Sometimes
beneath a gnarly tree
she stands &
ponders
reading stories
of historic kinship
with indigenous people
or hardship
from fire or mite.
**
she gestures to mountains
speaking the language
of giants
Arawang, Booroomba, Ginini,
Gingera, Bullen Range, Gudgenby
**
Over the years,
it’s not my knowledge
that has blossomed
(although maybe just a little),
but my gladness.
**
If I am a radio
she has taught me
to tune out the static
so that every walk
finds music
crisp as a bugle.
**
When I get home
I am singing.
Out of the Cave 
beautiful — and I love the metaphor of the radio; what a privilege it is to learn an indigenous language through a native speaker
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My friend is not Indigenous although I am interested that I gave that impression. 😊 But thank you for your lovely comment.
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This is a lovely poem to a friend. I hope she read it.
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She did! In fact she read it out loud at my little book launch that I had for my Chapbook in May. And then, on Tuesday, when she was here, she showed me that her Mum had sent it on to a whole lot of friends just that morning. :-). That was so nice.
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