There's a place I go when all else fails
To make me feel human
I thank god it is close enough
that my 1979 blue corolla called "Jenkins"
has enough working parts to get me there.
It has space and grass and weeds and sky and a wee little dusty trail
And sometimes bogans, but I don't mind
It is upstream of the sewerage works
Upstream, note, upstream.
There is deep and cool, brown, fresh water
that may or may not give you insectoid eye infections
It feels like a dream, floating eyes up to the sky blue and gold
Fish jump out of the water (they could be carp, but I don't think so)
You can't see a single house on the way down to the water hole
not a single one
you might see cows
or a pair of wedge tailed eagles, playing in the updraft
And of course there's always a chance of bogans
Trees and bushes and weeds have grown up and over
graffitti on the rockface from years ago
Nature wins.
Given time.
It is a good thing to remember,
When all else fails.
