THE GREY NOMADS
They have kissed grandchildren fondly and shaken
Put their furniture in storage after months of
Farewelled the familiar to obey their hearts
New Age overlanders in cars and caravans.
A siren song has called them, ancient spirit
of this land,
Rainforest, river, mountain, silver saltbush, rocks,
Soft voice of distant Dreamtime bids them see
No winter, always summer in a wandering caravan.
They have learned more of each other since this
long journey began,
Discussion flowing freely over sink and frying
Life is meant for living, they'll enjoy it while
Time no longer rules them - - their home a caravan.
A postcard from the Alice, photos, smiling tanned,
They won't be home for Christmas as previously
The road rises before them, a mesmerising strand,
Grey nomads follow rainbows in dusty caravans.