You never know whom you will meet
At over thirty thousand feet,
But on a trip to Darwin sun
Mark, the banker, was the one!
We flipped through magazines awhile
The meal came: meatballs, Aussie style.
He chose the wine from Wirra Wirra.
Once in a while won't hurt the liver.
Who is this guy? He lost his Mum
When young, an immigrant, Irish son.
We passed the time of day in skies
Quite clouded. That is a surprise.
Full blooded sun, full blooded wine
My ears attune to Southern 'Strine,
On a hop to Darwin's sunshine coast
Where he will have a friend as host.
(Written on a flight from Adelaide to Darwin)
(c) Poet in the woods 2014