It’s the song that the night owl sings
gliding silently on soft feathered wings
It’s the sound of a night full of stars and sky
seen twinkling and glistening through a teary eye
It’s the fearful, hushed and whispered growl
of a beast awakening to its own naked howl
It’s the roar of silence that cuts the night
when a lonely soul shivers in fright
It’s the soft, warm, damp air
Of a lover’s breath on your belly’s hair
"Words are clumsy pretenders of the images of my mind."
As a practicing artist I have travelled far and wide across Australia, walked on country, camped on country and rolled out my swag. I thank the custodians and I acknowledge the traditional owners of country throughout Australia and their continuing connection to land, culture and community. I pay my respect to Elders past and present.