Bushman Among the Buses

Upon the orange rock The sun beating mercilessly down, Is now replaced by Relentless rain 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 The barrier, Worrying about the passing of time. And… long…days... 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, Eyes closed... As he recalled his childhood And felt once more at peace. Copyright Emily Joshua