Fish

The gum trees swaying in the gentle breeze,
the fish swishing through the sea
close to the huts where they live.

The humans, brown as dirt,
Follow the trail of moonlight
down to the place where they find peace.

A fire burns and splutters and the humans dance,
And sing,
And wail,
And all their troubles are left behind.

The people throwing spears in fish,
Swimming lazily while a handmade wooden canoe pushes past the water,
Unknowing of the danger.

The fish lay over the fire,
Smoke rising upwards,
Heaven-ward.

Meat chunks torn off,
Digested,
Crunched like dry pasta
down to nothing.