Outback Seed
Twisted, gnarled, snapped and broken.
dead limbs belie the tortuous years when thrived.
Eroded landscapes display, layers of eons passed by
where nomadic man’s footsteps, once trod and so survived.
Jewels of desert beauty hang, and use their scent to reach,
through beckoning colour, the nomadic bird and bee who need
to be tantalized to fertilize, so when each flower dries,
a fruit is formed to hide the need for traveling seed.
Late summer breezes dance, across wavering grasses,
far as the eye can see now yellowing straw,
with heads emptying, dispersed by wind, or eaten,
by finches, parrots, doves and more.
Where all around this death before decay,
lie hidden embryos sheltered in a protective case,
defying browsing stock, which trample and churn the soil.
The seed lives waiting, dry and hard in a hiding place.
Shifting, drifting, migrating with the wind,
swirling grains of dust are rife.
Crevices, cracks or any rocky fracture,
fill and cover … to become a grave for dormant life.
'Tis the gentle rain that falls all day,
infiltrating the particles; seeping in between,
changing the land from pink to shades of brown…
In three short days a billion seeds, paint the landscape green.
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