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Poems from Australia

April 30, 2017

Here's a poem I wrote while driving through southern Australia, recently. It's possible I shouldn't do this sort of thing while jet lagged after a 15 hour flight over the Pacific. Or maybe this is my new, true calling. It's so hard to say. 

 

 

 

 

Was that a Dead Wombat? 

Was that a dead wombat I just passed?

He was a blobby, little guy. 
Should I go back?
No, people will think, 
"Look at that weirdo posing with a dead wombat."

Someone called me a Yank this morning.
They'll definitely suspect it if I go back for the wombat.  
But, I might not get to see another one. 
How far back was it?    

Who wants to see pictures of a dead wombat? 
Melissa, Melissa definitely does. 
She'd tell me to go back 
And forget what people might think. 

When will I be here again? 
Maybe never. 
Never again to see a dead wombat. 
I'm going back. 
How many kilo-meters have I gone? 

There'll probably be another one. 
They don't seem real smart.

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