Passage of time celebrated . . . .


In the pastel light, after a hot day, in setting sun
upon the escarpment, in fissure, solitairy Ghost Gum
absorbing, on its twisted white limbs, dying sun's rays
higher up, among the rocks, surefooted wallabies play


In the sudden descending blackness of the tropical night
the quietness, the landscape becomes a different sight
there are no stark, brilliant colours by light of full moon
eerie shapes abound, shadows, night flowers bloom


Crocodiles in water courses, patiently waiting for prey
water buffalo, wild horses, thirsty, on edge, slowly try
on ground and overhead flocks of migratory birds
cacophony of sound, deafening, nothing else heard


Change of seasons from dry to wet, tattoo of rain
transforming parched landscape to endless green plain
the walls of sandstone gorges take on a whole new sheen
on some, simple Aboriginal paintings, a sight to be seen


The wet season has started, revitalising again this land
torrents of water, in, what was yesterday, a river of sand
sometimes the seasons change early, sometimes very late
an annual ritual, the passage of time it helps to celebrate

EXPLORING OUR MAGNIFICIENT COASTLINE . . . .

Traveling Australia, no one forgets spectacular South Coast
of rock formations, all shapes, colours, sizes, does it boast
by huge waves, winds, without abating, it's constantly lashed
many a sailing ship, in early days, against these rocks was dashed
no rocks can withstand this relentless pounding of these waves
over thousands, millions of years, creating shapes and caves


The energy expended, traveling endless kilometres of open sea
blowholes, far inland, foam, spray above cliff tops, lone tree
there are reverberating thumps, booms, like thunder, at distance
in rough weather, don't venture near edge, you're taking a big chance
residual towers of harder rock, spectacularly rise from rough sea
near Port Campbell, in fine weather, "Twelve Apostles" you'll see


Inland are large areas that are forested by twisted Mallee Tree
big knobby underground roots, wildflowers profusely bloom in spring
Papery Sunray, Poached Egg Daisies, many more, large, some small if you listen, stand still, you may see Mallee Fowls, hear their call
most lakes connect to Murray River, do overflow after heavy rain
then, for many wetland birds, this becomes their breeding domain


White-bellied Sea Eagle, Pelican, Black Swan, variety of ducks too
Mulga Parrot, Egret, Euro, Western, Eastern and Grey kangaroo
traveling along The Great Ocean Road, many an unfamiliar sound
different horizons, changing coastline, scenery will astound
there are spectacular vistas on cloudy days with varied light
elements of nature relentlessly eroding The Great Australian Bight

GHOST TOWN . . .

There was an eerie silence in this place
of it's former inhabitants scarsely a trace
buildings, half fallen down,were built with dexterity
indicative of a very hard working people, prosperity


There a stone church, covered in vines, way up the hill
it's bell, in solid hand hewn timber tower, ever so still
it's metal parts rusted, immovable, devoid of any motion
no more like it used to be, alerting people to danger, devotion


The interior a richness of very fine craftsmanship proclaim
no more, since long ago, the sounds of joyuos Hymn's refrain
a place to worship, no distinction between the rich and humble
doors, if any, hanging askew, rotting floors, walls slowly crumble


No more Baptisms, Weddings, services for the dead
in memory of . . . . . faintly on windows of glass in lead
untended grave stones, tilted at crazy angles, in church yard
silent testimony to those who long ago, this life did depart


In wide, long main street, ruins of shops, large and small stores
maybe this or that one was the last one to close forever it's doors
those other buildings, they could have been some pubs
ornate wooden bars, dirt floors, here and there smoker's stubbs


This building here was the local school, over there the bank
you can also see, on stand, remains of town's rusted water tank
shire offices and hall, hospital, post office, police station
used for administering to the former large population


In village square there still stands an Obelisk, impressive, tall
insribed with names of those, in world conflicts, answered call
railway station, delapidated alongside overgrown track
rusted, unused by trains long departed, never to come back


A glimpse of a village or a town, in not too distant past
perhaps a very prosperous people, yet somehow didn't last
there is still plenty more to see and making you wonder
reasons how, why, it became a ghost town, it makes you ponder