RAINFOREST'S CHANGING MOOD . . .

Misty low clouds, slowly drifting over high mountains
shrouding dense green vegetation with very fine rain
very little penetration of sun's rays through dense canopy
stately, here and there, in all kinds of hues, stands a tall tree

In rainforest an absense of any noticeable bird sound
you can hear the drips of water, from up high, falling on ground
a sodden mess of dead twigs, leaves, shedded bark, on forest floor
fallen trees, rotting, decaying, returning nutrients to soil so poor

Some covered in coloured fungi, red, pink, brown, even blue
tiny pools of brackish water, reflecting mirror like, every hue
intricate cobwebs, droplets of water, hanging like pearls on string
spiders, patiently waiting, for next meal to come by, to tangle in

On gnarled, not always fallen trunks, new leaves emerging in sun
soft yellows, pinks, dappled greens, new life cycle again has begun
throughout rainforest, after rain, birds and frogs starting to call
familiar sounds returning, stars above, night is beginning to fall

Another dawn will soon break, rain temporarely gone, sunlight
frog choruses diminishing, songs of mornging birds again delight
mood of the rainforest has changed, a new experience beginning
there's no turning back, body and soul with new energy ringing

PASSAGE OF TIME CELEBRATED . . .

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

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

Crocodiles in water courses, patiently waiting for prey
water buffalo, wild horses, thirsty, edgy, slowly try
on ground and overhead flocks of migratory birds
cacophony of sound, deafening, nothing else is 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 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, river of sand
sometimes the seasons change early, sometimes late
an annual ritual, the passage of time, it helps to celebrate