“An Aussie Bush Summer” by James Aitchison

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Golden dust veils the scalding sunset,

And eucalyptus leaves droop weary.

Heat strangles each breeze at birth,

And all the bush is quiet and eerie.


A lonely road wanders lost between

the fences; some cattle, black and still.

Lost interest in the grass

And waiting for that dry creek to fill.


Nightfall claims the leavings of the day,

And branches reach out long and shady.  

The country’s parched and breathless,

Till once more, spring steps like a lady.


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