Poem for the Day - Camping WA

Camping WA

When the days seemed longer,
the road wider, we headed south,
panel van & surfcat hitched.

You knew where the road led, through acres
of Tuarts, valleys that searched the sky.

Ahead were thick forests in sleepy canvas,
first pee at Margaret River, before a coast road
to Walpole, smell of dieback as thick as the
leafy glare that fluttered through windows.

The kids' heads doing a backward pounding
into upholstery. Their hands scattering toys,
knuckles clenched for last punch.

White markers beside the road, large green
signs smuggling you in; to a right gravel turn,
Caravan & Camping five more ks,
- beware trucks crossing.

The language then: of leaving a city for solid
mountains, echoed laughter across the bay,
pelicans collapsed on a jetty,
fertile song encircling campsite.

The boss quickly chopping malley roots,
for billy tea, chops on a steel plate,
the peaceful coil of smoke.