Bushman Among the Buses
Upon the orange rock
The sun beating mercilessly down, Is now replaced by
Pelting on pavements in the town.
Brushing through the bush
with stick in hand,
Rifle over the shoulder,
Is now succeeded by
Squashed inside the tube
Laptop bag tight on back,
Silent predators packed together.
And his mind turns back
To days upon the orange rock And blue, endless skies,
As he runs up the escalator, Deftly slides through
Worrying about the passing of time.
Stretching as far as the
Vast limitless sky,
Are but a distant hint
Of a childhood that felt Empty, but strangely fulfilled.
This 'new life', this 'adventure', Had him hunting in a different way: Stalking code among the coffee cups To turn a profit for his bosses.
Ready for a big kill.
His fingers flew across the keys.
Despite the noise, the hustle and shoving The bushman stopped for a moment. He took a long, deep breath,
As he recalled his childhood
And felt once more at peace.
Copyright Emily Joshua
Copyright © Emily Joshua | Year Posted 2019
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