NOSTALGIA
Inland
north from Port August to the Barkly Tableland,
From
the eastern blue-gray mountains to the Murchison’s red sand,
The
plains and hidden valleys thoughout that vast terrain
Know the heavy
heady perfume
Of
Mulga after rain.
Than
you huddle in scant shelter as the daylight turns to rust,
And
the wind blasts jagged patterns in the blinding choking dust,
The
storm swirls muddy torrents, thunder crashes in your brain,
Welcome then
the soothing fragrance
Of
mulga greeting rain.
The
glorious inland sunrise paints morning over night,
The
rainbow’s changing colour blends to sunshine golden bright,
The
beauty of the inland, so intense it’s almost pain,
Then
the freshly scented breezes
Tell of mulga soft with rain.
The
spinifex is blooming in wide fields like golden wheat
And
parakeelya spreading in the shadows lush and sweet,
Myriad
eyes of black and scarlet, Sturt peas cover all the plain,
But the
delicate aroma
Is
of mulga green with rain.
The
everlasting daisies form a carpet pink and white,
A
fairyland of frosting, a vision of delight,
Ghost
gums dance in mystic moonlight to a whispering refrain,
Yet
the spirit of the inland
Lives
in mulga after rain.
See
the glory of the inland as you travel far and wide,
Blooming
flowers in the deserts where the willy willies ride,
But
the haunting living memory to bring you back again,
Is
the breath of pure nostalgia
Born
of mulga scented rain.
By
Dick Turner
©
Joan Small, PO Box 552, Tennant Creek
N.T. 0861
Ph: 80 8962 1235
