This Country.

Endless free sky
Stretches over
Meandering grass
Spiky and harsh

Skeletons of trees
That once stood
Higher than a birds wings
Now dead and dry

I watch the dusty plains
No signs of life
We're the only ones
Or so it seems

Could I even count
All the shades that I see
Ochre, orange, charcoal and green
Underneath blue, white and cool grey

For this scrub is plentiful
These dusty hills are moments in time
The colours all around
This country is alive.