Going west this trip

                                         Over the mountains

                                          On to the plains,

                                       Where it is hot and dry

                                       And rain is an accident.

                                          The train is slow

                                         Over the mountains

                                         Early morning mist

                                         Foretells noon heat

                                       And eucalypts burn blue.

                                      In the lee of the mountains

                                      The earth rolls and swells

                                         Green undulations.

                                       Black cattle, white sheep

                                    And along the river, lush poplars.

                                      Stands of wattle and pine

                                           Side by side

                                      Blue grey and dark green.

                                          Eucalypts sprawl

                                        In slovenly arrogance.

                                     Gradually, the country flattens

                                     Fields become larger, flatter,

                                        Mountains disappear

                                         On hazy horizons.

                                     The land leaves water behind.

                                          Red soil appears

                                       And the river is nothing,

                                        A crack in the earth.

                                      White fields of dead stalks

                                     Ready to be ploughed under.

                                   Houses seem part of the landscape

                                       Solitary, and miles apart.

                                         Oases of humanity

                                        In patchwork fields.

                                       Tributes to persistence.

Dawn McDonald
© March 2005

Midi: "The Air That I Breathe"
Hollies
(Music formthe Golden Oldies)