The mid-winter morning is, as usual, crisp, clear and cold
the vegetation to be seen all round appears ancient, very old
low wizened Mallee, Acacia growing in very small fertile patches
morning breeze creating melodies in passing when it touches
Dusky unusual silhouttes rising gracefully against sky of old
it feels like serenity, as always, slumbering beneath limestone fold
distinctive ringing bird calls float across the early morning sky
those of us having been here before, as if friends are passing by
Songs of early birds, Babblers, Fan-tailed cuckoos, Currawong
maybe these birds with their beautiful songs, teaching their young
one would not think that any life could exist in this harsh land
for some birds, animals, it fulfills however a need, diet very bland
Pounding waves along seashore, eerie sounds in stillness of night
millions of stars in sky above, no moon, they provide the only light
presence of underground caves, indicated by blow-holes, big, small
sometimes full of clear water, ironic in area of very low annual rainfall
Landscape scarred, almost barren, anything survives here is a wonder
this is one of the mysteries of this, Australia, a land called "Down Under"
a result of millions oif years of battle between wind, sun, land, and sea
to be in this environment is good for the soul, mind, feeling totally free
It wasn't so long ago when early explorers crossed this forbidden land
saved from perishing on journey by roaming Aboriginal's guiding hand
with their intimate knowledge of finding precious water, some shade
explorers, disillusioned gave up hope, some finally journey's end made
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