Bush Boy feels ground’s textures beneath his feet
avoids ant’s nests as if they’re mines
likes the music made by falling branches
makes them into wands, drum sticks,
swords and all manner of things.
Bush boy likes to clamber and climb
look for turtles down at the creek
scare away snakes from the back clothesline
ignore smudges of dirt on his face
until he’s home for snacks.
Bush boy kicks his footy back and forth
hits a tennis ball with a stick – it’s his imagined cricket bat
dreams beyond the scrub
of games and heroes who once began here
sporting heroes raised in the bush.
(c) June Perkins
Gumboootspearlz 
I love it
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Wonderful!
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Bush Boy sounds like a kid after my own heart. He’s a gem as is your poetry. Wonderful.
Vi
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Such a free little poem!
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I can just imagine bush boy your words are so evocative.
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Thanks Suzanne and everyone who has left a comment on this poem / brief reflection – often my environment and people/family reactions in it are inspiring.
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