THE GREAT WIDE BLUE UP YONDER
Trapped in a city of unclean air,
I gaze around with a vacant stare
And wonder where I made that erroneous turn,
For many a day itís clouded in smog,
The fumes and the dust the sinuses clog,
Once more for those wide open spaces I yearn.
For once again I would like to wander
Beneath the great wide blue up yonder,
Where wild flower buds are born to blush unseen,
Where their fragrance pure is wasted
Like vintage wine thatís never tasted,
Then drifts away in those far flung glades of green.
To see an old man kangaroo
As he leaves his tracks in the morning dew,
Slowly raise himself to his full majestic height,
His senses quickly become intense
As a dingo shows at the boundary fence,
Then stealthily steals away in the gathering light.
To rest in the shade on a riverís bank
Where the grass grows green and lush and rank,
And the reeds all gently murmur in the breeze,
Watching swallows that duty bring
To catch insects upon the wing,
Their nestlingís hunger shortly to appease.
As the sun at its meridian shines
And activity in the bush declines,
Solace and solitude quietly paves the way,
But as the afternoon wears on
The heat of sun is gradually gone,
Towards the closing of another perfect day.
At twilight, half an hour Ďfore dark,
A ring- barked redgum standing stark
Is immersed suddenly in a swirling cloud of white,
A screeching crowd of cockatoos
For silence who at first refuse,
Then slowly settle down for the coming night.
Then as the dark itís talons curl,
The nocturnal birds their wings unfurl,
Then a golden glow appears on horizons far,
Forth comes a softly tranquil moon
As frogs and crickets call in tune
Interrupted by the call of some lone nightjar.
The bush and plains it magic spun,
I know it's not for everyone
But to me it's an untold paradise,
For city folk can never see
The pleasure bushland brings to me
Or appreciate the things that make it nice.