Once upon a blue moon,
There was a tide that rippled smooth.
The early rain dropped, from the mango trees,
From the mangroves and manatees.
Uluru needed rain that day,
And the puddle became a lake.
The old ones were happy,
For they could write their songs.
From the ochre, the three legged man,
Sounded through the beeswax.
And the young males cried out to the birdsong,
The holy rock of Ayers was a place to fish,
Once more for the days of unity,
Were close at hand for two little boys.
Oh how spooky. My youngest daughter's been in Australia since last July. She and her friends just got robbed of their cameras, wallets and other high value possessions by some natives at Ayers Rock on Monday of this week. Two little girls, it so happens. Six months of photographs gone. That was the worst thing, she told me. Everything else is replaceable.
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