Pre Dawn

In cool quiet mist
we rise silently gathered
by dying embers
 
Leaving sleeping babes
mouths open, warm chests filled
with the breath of dreams
 
Wood bowls in hand,
allies, star-guided
through thick bush seeking dew for
the unweaned and the weary.
 
Red Waratah
Bloodwood tree
 
Returning to camp
mother, grandmother, child.
 
Kookaburra calls
Dawn nears.