The trees that blow in summer breeze
strip off their bark with careless ease
then dip their toes in waters there
without a thought, without a care.

Their leafy features casting shade
across the woodland’s green parade,
next to the waters of the creek
that as they rush to river, speak;

with babbling state their endless quest
to meet the ocean and find rest,
to all and sundry standing near,
to anyone who stays to hear.

Like birds that fossick for the worm
or grubs within the soil turned,
to possums sleeping in the trees,
in daylight hours taking ease.

We move across the greensward sway
to listen to its woodland say
the many pleasures and its cheer
to taste the waters’ foaming beer;

brewed in the mountains of delight
to then descend from greatest height.
Rolled down to them in barrel time
of high country and acres climb;

arrived from place where cattle graze
on rugged pastures where they gaze
upon the sky and watery clouds
formed from the lowlands and surrounds.

Rain weeps its tears of purest bliss
to grace the earth with gentle kiss
and roll delightfully to speak
into the hurried, rushing creek.

© G. Burns 11-Jan-2013