For years the clouds lay dormant
With not a drop of rain.
Then suddenly the heavens opened
To help us heal the pain.

But the water it kept coming
Across our barren land.
It flowed and flowed for miles
Into the dried out desert sand.

The cattle they were happy
There was water for their day.
But upon the rain soaked soil
Their lifeless bodies do now lay.

I will never understand it
How can Mother Nature be so cruel.
We waited for so long
Now I feel like such a fool.

But I am an Aussie farmer
And you will not keep me down.
For I may be near rock bottom
But you will not see me frown.

I will put my hat and boots on
And I will go out on my land.
Because I know Australia’s with me
And everyone will lend a hand.

I am an Aussie farmer
And I will fight until the end.
Mother Nature has nothing
On the love and spirit our community will send.

A flame that burns
Brilliantly, brightly,
Creates light amongst the darkness.
It can be singular
Or one of many.
Yet whether alone or grouped
It has a life of its own.
Flickering, laughing and taunting,
Its sauce of ignition.
For once started its predictability
Is lost into the great unknown.
It is its own identity.
Don’t be fooled by its natural beauty.
The way it dances across the floor.
While its song lays dormant.
It roars when in a pack.
It stalks its prey
And without warning it attacks.
Like a wild animal in a cage,
Its brute strength waits to be unleashed.

A place of beauty.
A place of pride.
A sense of wonder,
The wonder of the outside.

I have spent many a day,
Looking out at my green room.
Where the caterpillars come to play,
And the birds come to groom.

I talk to the wildlife.
And feed my fish.
I show my granddaughter,
The beauty of a wish.

A wish that someday,
My seeds will grow.
And from the ground,
Only beauty will show.

A Plank of wood,
Became my seat.
To where I rested,
My weary feet.

My garden is my escape.
A place I call my own.
It is with a sense of wonder,
I have watched the seeds I‘ve sown.

So many a bud,
Has groweth a flower.
So many a tree,
From which I harness my power.

My mirrors they danced,
In the sun.
Planting my garden,
Has been my passion and fun.

A pot and a shovel,
Have been my tools.
But my love of nature
Has dictated the rules.

I loveth my garden,
But the time has come,
To pass the beauty,
Onto another one.

N.B – I wrote this for my father-in-law who loved his garden but had to sell his house when it got too much for him. He used to take my daughter out there and they would admire the wildlife and the flowers together.

A rose is a simple inanimate object of beauty and sometimes passion. Its soft and tender petals bring joy and tantalise the air in which its sweet, gentle scent floats.

The feelings such a simple object, a mere flower can evoke, prove that one of many, which we believe to be the same has its own unique quality. Much like that of a human being.

I watch the waves as they come in,
They crash, they smash, then re-begin.
The wash, the spray,
All clear, white and blue.
The sounds of seagulls flying through.
The peace of the ocean,
The tranquility of life,
The harmony of nature,
All virtues of life.
Appreciated by those who have learnt to love,
The earth’s many wonders.
A gift from above.