Victory of the Walkabout Tribe

A time to gaze

To let the mind graze

Walk to an anthem

Heard only by you

To watch dreams being dreamed

And to dream your own too

With future rejoicings

Overheard from within

The Walkabout Tribe

Will make you their kin

Through flush summer heat

Or steel-winter cold

These starry-eyed dreamers

Shall never grow old

Lunch Walk

Less time than a prison yard

but more

to put under gaze.

We seek to be invisible,

dissipate

into the summer haze.

Work piles up

while we breath fresh air

for our only fun.

Let the scene to be seen

turn and blister

in the sun.

Wear eight hats

and pulled

every which way.

We let work eat up

too much of our day.

Someday

we’ll go on our lunch walk

to stay.