I cannot see the world
beneath my feet.
This tree that dares the sky
in shimmer of twigs and leaves
drives another dialogue
in the earth below.
Questing roots search
a world of blind desires
from which I’m barred.

The soil
scattered with fallen leaves
shields vibrant forms
manifesting life
I sense but do not know.

The wombat has the better of me
with tunnelling claws
and nuzzling nose
he reads the strange
exchanges made
in alien languages
spoken soundlessly
in the dark.

The mind too
|has depths
beyond our sight,
where no winds blow,
no light shines.

Where are my wombat paws
to dig and tunnel
in this alien world?
How can I travel
in the dreaming dark,
feel for unfamiliar forms,
find, touch, sense
the rough thrust of hungers,
thirsts, hopes and despairs?

Paws are not enough.
I need a wombat’s claws
to take me there.