Firebreak?

They close the schools when it’s too hot
At over 40 - teaching has to stop
The whole week we’re on red alert
High winds are forecast and can hurt

The pasture land and country towns
When burning embers float around
A chance spark or a lightning flash
And bush fires make a front page splash.

Perpetual sun – an Aussie trend
But holidays come to an end
This week the schools start their new year
But in this heat – who will be there?

(c) Poet in the woods 2014

Australia Day - 26th January

On Australia day we celebrate
How in 1788
Captain Cook sailed Sydney way
And stepped ashore at Botany Bay.

The date was 26th of Jan
The arrival of European man
Upon an island vast, unknown
Which the Aborigines called home.

A harsh and unforgiving land
With a barren heart of sand
Sharp rocks that crack in burning heat
A wilderness where serpents sleep.

Here convicts and free settlers came
With scarce a penny to their name
When the cry of “Gold!” in Ballarat
Lured many to try their luck Outback.

The States became a Federation
And are now a multicultural nation
With the ‘Whites Only’ policy repealed
New arrivals come from far afield.

New citizens sworn in on this day
At official ceremonies say
They are proud to sing “Australia Fair”
And this ‘Lucky Country’ share.

(c) Poet in the woods 2014

A Drive to Windy Point

In the evening as the sun goes down,
The winding roads go darker brown,
The shadows lengthen on the way
And daytime bird song melts away.

The views on every side astound
Fine look-outs each way we turn round
The rocks are jagged, deep ravines
Have no doubt hidden bad crash scenes...

Above us there is only sky
The moon our guide as we drive by.
At last the car comes to a rest
At Windy Point; the view is best

As here all Adelaide is seen
In twinkling lights of red and green:
The airport runways, Brighton Beach,
And Marion Mall are within reach.

Glenelg is a stone’s throw away
Dark patches - Adelaide’s parkway
It’s not L.A. – high rise is rare
And no pollution in the air.

It’s a place with magic of its own;
So no one comes here all alone
Couples and tourists from afar
Pass happy moments in the bar!

(c) Poet in the woods 2014

View of South Australia and the sea from Windy Point.

Simply Red - Roxby Downs

The colour red springs straight to mind
Against a blue that’s hard to find
In Northern Europe my own patch,
Which has no landscape that can match.

Pale green shrub and dappled trees
Stillness broken by a breeze,
Bird life abundant, hard to see
Against a terracotta scree.

Where am I? Far from tarmac road,
On dusty track, in Antipode
Just minutes from Olympic Dam
Named for Melbourne’s sporting span

In Fifty-Six - now busy site
Where uranium’s processed day and night.
With gold and copper ore, this mine
Is making dollars now, big time.

In this thriving outback town,
Where all amenities surround
The growing populace, desert heat
Means air conditioners seen in street.

There’s a library, hospital and vet
Dry cleaners and a superette*
Where prices for fresh veg are high
The trucks must travel, that is why.

What’s a bettong? In the dark,
We discovered in an arid park
In a hide, first checked for fear of snakes,
That wildlife night-time forays makes.

A bilby, mini kangaroo,
Was caught in spotlight by our crew
As we wandered over sandy dune
Under a starlit sky and moon.

Once a month the Raceway roars
As old jalopies settle scores
A chequered flag proclaims the winner
Steak sandwiches our only dinner.

On Sundays, Roxby Downs still thrives
The nursery plants enrich our lives
Then hurtling over rough terrain,
We can noodle in the dumps again!

The Opal is an outback gem
Each one unique; my feeble pen
Cannot express its fiery glow
Found in red rocks so deep below.

A treasure of another sort
A trip up North, a sudden thought,
A dream of Oz this one weekend
Whose memories will never end.

(c) Poet in the woods 2014

* very small supermarket

The Tour Down Under

Victoria Square – a maze of tents
Huge crowds; activity intense
“The Tour Down Under” starts the year
With water bottles, Lycra gear.

Huge banners for this sports-mad nation
The officials check the conflagration
Which has wrought havoc in the Hills
And engendered huge insurance bills.

But smoke inhalation is no threat
Though the heat and steep inclines are set
To challenge all those who take part
And make their well-taxed muscles smart!

After the heat wave of last week
The “cool change” means this annual feat
Can go ahead now just as planned
Over empty roads in this parched land.

This 'Tour de France' pure Aussie style
Is just as gruelling mile for mile
As its Gallic counterpart
And not for cyclists faint of heart!

(c) Poet in the woods 2014



Victoria Square, Adelaide

Glenelg, South Australia

Hot - Hotter - Hottest!

Quiet and sleepy Adelaide
Known for its Christmas street parade,
Its avenues devoid of cars
Its many clubs and coffee bars

Its festival of arts and fringe
Its racetrack and other sporting things
Its leafy suburbs in the Hills
Its relaxed family style – no frills

Does not often “hit the spot”
In terms of news, for it does not
Have a Sydney Bridge or "Hanging Rock"
Or nightlife that raves round the clock.

But since yesterday its reputation
As the warmest city in the Nation
Has been surpassed as waves of heat
Make it the Planet’s hottest seat!

At over forty-six degrees
And scalded by a Northern breeze
The CFS* is overstretched
As the many bush fires now attest!

*Country Fire Service

(c) Poet in the woods 2014

Thomas - at Six Days Old

A miracle has just occurred;
When he breathed so gently like a bird,
I held my nephew - six days old
Upon my lap – and I was sold!

With tiny hands and rose pink feet
And cheeky tongue, he tried to greet
His brand new Auntie who had come
To meet him in the sweltering sun.

In a singlet of the smallest size
His shock of dark hair hid his eyes
But he welcomed me to his new home
By smiling just for me alone!

A whole new wardrobe not yet worn
All chosen for this dear newborn
But the torrid heat is rather tough
So just a nappy is enough!

He’s learning, but it takes some time,
To suckle at his mother’s vine
Nature’s milk is now on tap
So he gets fed between each nap.

His parents, who are learning too,
Are sometimes not sure what to do
Each cry is different and unknown
Thomas’s language is his own!

(c) Poet in the woods 2014