Distance ... Lying hot and red under the sun
Australia, vast, mile after mile of red sand burning
Australia, beaches of blue-water and green gumtrees of eucalyptus smelling
Australia, red heart of Uluru, corroboree dancing
Didgeridoo playing
Kangaroo in the sunset bounding
Bush burning ... the sky is on fire ...
Australia
Under the eternal sun, the road of forever running, cicadas in the summer heat
buzzing
Wattle tree, whipbird, bell bird, lyre bird building
Aboriginal dancing that ancient dance, forty thousand years of being
Australia, sunburnt sandstone, rock painting, spider crawling, kookaburra laughing ... I hear that sound ...
Australia, in the turquoise pool of summer, sunburnt back peeling skin and
Drinking cordial and licking Sunnyboys,
Smelling of sunscreen and white zinc
Australia, under the garden hose water spraying
Sit and flick the flies for a thousand miles ... twelve thousand miles away...
Australia...
Once had a pen pal from Australia. Sent me a sample of the Wattle, yellow in color. My favorite color was yellow from then on. We don't write now, but I think of her often. I do read some novels of Australia. Must be a wild country in some spots, but many people love to travel there to see it down under it is. Greatwrite desribing it, I feel like I've been there. Hot is it there?
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
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