To be Australian
This land of rain and drought, of mudflats, salt and sky,
Mangroves, mangoes, sugarcane, of sheep that idle by;
Of coral spawning ‘long the coast, wheat golden in its field,
Winds biting at the Southern bite where fish are inward reeled.
The SES are tarping roofs, a cyclone is appeased;
Firies wiping grimy brows amidst the blackened trees.
City folk bustling, rush, in darkly coloured suits;
Cars and buses, trains and trams, jogging shoes and boots.
Possums nest inside the roof as wallabies dodge cars.
Road-trains sail the outback roads beneath a sea of stars.
Journalists report of woe, of strife, heartache and war.
People dust off bicycles as petrol prices soar.
Soldiers and the AFP, hard-working, sent abroad,
Citizens debate the need of fights we can’t afford.
Diabetes, heart disease, obesity and stress,
Cancer, stroke, the common flu all feature in the press.
Debating over stem-cell use, technology still thrives.
Consumerism’s greed and debt, as gambling ruins lives.
Another death in custody, another teenage birth.
Another slap-dash band-aid deal to prove the PM’s worth.
A rooster greets the early morn, a kookaburra laughs.
A canine pal, all slobbery, lopes down a garden path.
El Niño or La Niña? It’s still too soon to know.
Rivers dry, broken now, but will the crops all grow?
To smell hot Milo late at night, chopped grass, a barbecue,
The taste of Vegemite on toast, a sip of old home brew.
The blue moon’s come and gone, they say. The nights grow short again.
Is this, I ponder, what it is to be Australian?
By Merryn
Just some pondering to share...
