Desert Camp on Tuesday I Think
by Ian Robinson
The wind in this tree
Is singing me.
And I am up in flung clouds
Red blue and golden in the sunset
Carried down twisted creeks
Caught like debris in trees
Flooded, flooded deep below
The surface.
Desert Rain
by Ian Robinson
I’m from south.
The warm air tricked me, promised a balmy night.
The drips dropped out of nowhere,
Kept coming everywhere,
Then the drumming coming on in the dark
When you hear it you just know
The mud will stick, creeks will run,
bush will get drunk and close the roads,
and the birds will laugh for days.
Two nights two days two inches we had,
Muddied, grounded, discomfited, full.
