Her cradling arms

This land holds me safe,

Sacred, blessed as it

Unfurls with the seasons

Now warm then cool

Windy still and chill

And crickets burring in

Late Summer heat.

I sit.

I sit and reflect on

Times been, times to

Come and how I am

But a piece of jetsam

In the ocean of life

Or perhaps more than

That, maybe a wave

Arising from the ocean's

Depths to break upon the

Shore and recede, back

At the end of the day with

Some snippet of life

Washed from the

Distant shore.

I am part and all,

Both at once and neither

Contradictory in the

Peace of the road,

The still of the howling

Wind.

I am

I am held close

Loved firm

Spared none of the

Raw, of the discomfort

Wherein lies growth

Riches bestowed by the

Munificent, not grasped.

As this cycle of life

Turns towards its

Return I realise the

Peace of bush solitude

With the spirits of

The land.