In My Restless Dreams. Poem by Geoffrey Fafard

In my restless dreams
I see the running Bustard
Along a cape York track
Then the dancing Brolgas
In at least a hundred pack
I watch with awe the crocodile
Camouflaged in the creek
Waiting for his supper
Preying on the meek
I see the watchful wallaby
Grazing in the grass
Of some distant outback plain
Chewing on the new shoots
Brought by last weeks rain
Sleep is a mist as I drift
To the hiss of the Western Brown
Curled up in the log
His face in permanent frown
I glide to the Owl waking
Hidden in his tree
Who plans his hunt and target
Man I am glad it isn't me
Across this mighty country
I soar in my sleep
It is in fact a rampant joy
To see and spy and creep
Over the dry and dusty outback
Loving this quiet dream
And my good fortune to see
The lost and hidden players
in the most fortunate of scenes.