Read by Jodi Egerton
Poetry readies
Its backpack for the long journey ahead
It contains only the essentials;
childhood memories, doozies and daydreams
Poetry meanders
To the suburbs
Tapping at my window playfully
Stretching out shamelessly on the shingles
It beckons me
come morning
Whispering softly down a gully
My feet have never trod
Poetry tugs
the hem of my woolen sweater
When I conceal myself in its security
Nudging me softly to speak powerfully
It bites at my ears
when harsh words pummel my spirit
Demanding that I retaliate
against my feares and foes
Today it takes my hand gingerly
Down to that gully
To place my footprint
It its easy soil