Brooke Forbes

Moonshine provides natural light, 

Soft and ambient,

Wistfully landing,

Amongst the Ghost Gums. 

Unlike the sun, 

You can stare at this solar entity,

Absorbing its energy directly,

Without being blinded by the light. 

Music plays as I bath in moonshine,

It tells stories of colonisation, of conversation, of survival. 

The backdrop is part of the song, it seems, with white trunks reflecting shapes and shadows, 

Standing tall and strong,

On ground where women once gathered. 

I don’t drink this moonshine,

But yet,

It hydrates me.

And I imagine, if I was to drink it, it would be the flavour of soft finger limes,

Crisp citrus fresh from a nearby garden,

Added with care,

Not over powering. 

This night-light energises me,

Lives through me,

Bounces from the White Gums to my white bones. 

And I’m left, 

Somewhat hypnotised,

Swaying and dancing,

In the wake of a moonlit trail to freedom.