The old man sat, his legs crossed,
opposite the young boy, in the dirt.
"See dat fella?" he said pointing at a tree,
"Dat fella's yer brother, yer big brother."
The boy turned and looked at the tree.
"He's a livin' fella just like you are,
I remember when he was a little fella,
just like you're a little fella now."
The old man smiled, "He's a good fella."
he continued "he'll give ya his bark,
fer yer to make shelter and his branches,
fer yer to make fire when it's cold."

"Dat one dare! Can ya see da bush?"
he asked "Dat bush, dat one your aunty,
when you're hungry she will give ya berries.
See dem little ones?" pointing at the flowers,
"Dem ones they are ya sisters." He announced,
"Dem one's bring you beauty and brightness,
dem ones are de girls dat make us all happy."
The old man laughed showing the gaps in his teeth.
Pointing up he said "Look at dat fella up dare!
Dat fella he carries the sun around ter keep us warm,
an' when dat fella cries he fills our water holes,
dat fella he's our friend he lights candles at night,
so us fellas can find our way back to our womin."

"And what about you grandfather? What are you?"
The boy asked as he looked up at the old man.
"Me!" replied the grandfather "I guess I am da bringer.
I'm dat fella that brings these stories to yer,
so yer can understand that the country is our family,
it is alive like we are and that joins us together."
The old man tapped a twig, he was holding, on his foot.
"When the wind has blown my skin off and I am,
only a white stick laying in the desert sand,
yer will be the one who will look after dis family."
he said. "Then yer will become da bringer."

(c) 31/03/2010

he's a superstitious fella,
that's the rumour people throw around.
he often sits inside, twiddling his thumbs,
thinking of what could possibly go wrong.

there are whispers around town,
questions in media about how he acts.
people always talk about him,
and wonder if he'll ever admit it.

most say no, many say yes
and almost everyone, always
just says to ask.

but he's a superstitious fella,
that's the rumour that's true.
he sits inside, twiddles his thumbs,
plays with his hair and straightens his back.

their questions and thoughts about what he is
float around as he thinks about what everyone is saying
and wonders what could possibly go wrong.

a superstitious fella could never sit outside
in the coffee shop with his friends
or a bowling alley with his family.

but this superstitious fella is unique indeed,
because he sits inside and wishes the day away.
this superstitious fella bites his tongue and cheek,
because this superstitious fella is me.