Boulia and Beyond

Friday, Jul 22, 2011 at 00:00

Member-Heather MG NSW

A Poem I wrote inspired by our experiences followed by Photos of our few days in Channel Country between Boulia and Windorah. (I am not a poet..so apologies to those of you who happen to read this and feel like correcting my iambic pentameter? or whatevers!!

CHANNEL COUNTRY

Red road, wheel ruts, corrugations
Dust, rocks and gibber stones.
Protruding signs 'rough road ahead'
rising from the flat terrain,
warn where boggy spots remain;
evidence of recent rain.

Pools of water, frequent channels;
life filled ribbons lined with green.
Running streams where flocks of bird life
screech and bicker, splash and preen.

Red roos, emus slow our journey,
leap and dart across our path.
Zebra finches playing chicken,
some unlucky, strike the car.

Hawks and kites wheel and circle
high above in clear blue sky.
Bustards, brolga roam the grasslands,
startled by us passing by.

Spinifex and Mitchell grasses,
mallee, gidgee dot the land.
Rocky jump ups, mesas, plateaus.
Samphire lining salty pans.
Ochre hues of cream and rust,
so much to see along with dust.

Undulating rippled ridges; terracotta red.
Perfect prints of hidden wildlife,
reptiles, rodents.
Tracks in sand.
Slopes adorned with spiky clumps
of jade grey green and coloured plants.

Road trains, clouds of dust approaching.
Discarded rubber strips of tyre
littering the roadside verges,
lie like parched, long dead remains.

Roadkill looms like distant hilltops.
Signs resemble tall dead trees.
Our eyes keep watch for smallest features
to ease monotony of plains.

Long dead trees with branches reaching,
limbs outstretched for resting birds,
waiting raptors plucking roadkill,
fight and bicker for their share.

Huge clear skies and flat horizons
campfire meals with milky way.
Setting sun brings changing colours
shadows lengthen, slowing winds.

Darkness quietens daytime noises
silence settles all around.
Are we the only people out here
alone, in awe of this great land?

Overnight in road rest stops
waking sometime in the night
lying still in total darkness.
Hope we aren't in shooters sights.


Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt. John Muir
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