we leave the city together
bags packed for sleeping we head for
the bright little town nestling
like a mediterranean village

in the folds of the jarrah forest
our own house near the bridge
is full of sun and stovewood
I chop near the orchard and you

cook the good vegetables and the fallen
fruit an Act of God our friends are
the blue sky and the horse next door
the house piles climb from the red

earth among the goats and cats
we sing sometimes under the sky and
the nights are quietly full of
frogs and the garrulous stream

awaking the dream blurs the desire
stays