by Ben Morton

Created on: January 26, 2007   Last Updated: May 14, 2007

Solitary Tree

A hundred horrid ants crawl one by one, across the blackened bark,
The irritating fly, as always, is accompanied by ten more like it,

The galahs screaming, a hysterical noise overhead,
Like a barely contained riot, they squabble amongst the sparse leaves.

A great sea of grey salt bush encircles a solitary tree,
No good thing from useless little hills for miles in every direction.

The kangaroos making themselves at home, in from the heat of the day,
They rest themselves as they please in the shade of the solitary tree.

Strangely camouflaged, the tree, stark amid the open scrub.
Motionless, timeless, upon the barren landscape, it remains unnoticed.

All come to take the things they need from the solitary tree,
The tree gives selflessly to them without being asked, or thanked.

Just another tree along the distance each must travel,
By tomorrow afternoon, unremembered, in the search for the next.

The animals come and find their shelter and shade provided,
Knowing that with its own branches, will it shield them from the blaze.

Great islands of spinifex, heedless, dotted wide across the horizon.
The dry red dirt unending, beyond the tree's hard, water starved roots,

A million birds, for a moment each, perch in its crooked boughs,
Each makes a brief but noisy stop-over before they fly out on their frantic way.

As the white ants come now in their dozens and their hundreds,
And another wretched beetle which will surely not be the last.

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