Beside the creek on ochre tracks
Which stone and dust inhabit
Across the waters muddied black,
By puddling frogs and rabbits.
Climb grassy hills with slippery boots,
Curse bloweys that come to close,
And nervously examine roots
Resembling snakes or worse.
I stagger to the lofty peaks,
Scutinizing lowly hues.
Through trees, I questionably seek
for the bushlands wide eyed views.
Bracken snatches at my ankles,
Angry bull ants scale my socks,
Dodging my steps, the pannicles
Of dainty wild flower crops.
The warm air nestles on my face
A lull disturbs the rustle
Seated I claim a grassy place
And watch for movements subtle
Tracks I’ve meandered scar the hills
In a lumbering design.
The honey-eaters blissful shrills
Re-call my peaceful times