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