THE SWAGGIE . . .

In the cemetery there stands a simple wooden cross
on it, Swaggie, caught my eye and imagination
no claim to fame, achievement, just one of society's dross
a harmless soul, nobody knew, a-tramping around the Nation

His old felt hat, worn jauntily, belongings, swag on back
grey whiskers, tousled hair, flowing long white beard
worn boots, army great coat, heading along unknown track
almost a trade mark, about him not many people cared

Leading a simple life, never a worry or ever creating a fuss
communicating with nature, in heart and mind content
a lifelong dream fulfilled, maybe strange to many of us
looking at life in a different perspective, no fairy story

Many a place he had been, hitching a ride or just walk
always as one with nature, according to environment
about his travels, if you asked, only too willing to talk
for many hours, wishing his odessy would never end

Days of the Swaggie, romantic as they may seem, no more
like so many things of yesteryear, passing into Folklore
as in life, so too in death, at rest under a shady tree
no name, no Epitaph, just an all encompassing "Swaggie

A RIVER CARVED OUT OF STONE . . .

Floodwaters over centuries have left their mark in this river carved out of stone
to appreciate it's beauty of towering sheer walls can be done by boat alone
creating caves and overhangs when through sandstone cliffs it forged it's way
walls displaying kaleidoscope of colours by changing light throughout the day

This river in winter it serene beauty, peacefulness, tranquility grossly belie
in summer, when in full flood, a very destructive force when it thunders by
the waters become very deep between the sheer walls, flowing metres wide
eroding the banks, drowning wildlife, uprooting trees, what a terrifying sight

The mirror-like reflections of multi-coloured walls amazing sight to behold
interspersed, here, there, delicate plants, clinging to walls, tenuous foothold
along path subtle formed rock bars,creating foaming rapids, miniature waterfall
great variety of birds, cormorants, fairy martins, rainbow birds, enthrall

Freshwater crocodiles, in search of food in tranquil waters, slowly cruise by
almost a fisherman's paradise, usually catch perch, barramundi, on first try
unlike most Aboriginal rock art found, here not always in caves, rock shelters
often on open walls, although protected from fierce sun and torrential rain

Drawings, some 18000 years old, depict ancestral Spirits, animals of Dreamtime
some of them brilliant colours, red ochres, meticulously drawn in very fine line
scattered in Outback Towns or Stations, few Aboriginal descendants still survive
their traditional relationship with the land and Katherine Gorge being kept alive