Day dreaming

I'm daydreaming.

Dreaming of a day when unspoken words are spoken, and paths ahead converge and merge without my even noticing clear space ahead.

I was asked the other day if I plan to settle here. My response was that it was not possible. The simple answer: it's not my country.

I have a spot picked out that would be perfect for a little house. Something small, self-sufficient. Solar powered. Open verandah across the spinifex to the distant ranges. No fences.

Today, while going for a walk to a nearby hill, the perfect camping spot arose and enfolded. I could see small family groups sitting around a fire, winnowing and sifting. Or swags and a camp oven, settling in for the night.

Weaving my way around and over silent spinifex, poised to pounce, I noticed tiny tracks. Animals. Feet. Ancient tyre tracks. Not nearly so ancient as all around me.

It's not my country. But I feel it, still.