 Dusk-time down the billabong
The soft grey tones entrance My bush friends sing their evening song And the river gums softly dance. The ancient things are very slow Secretive, knowing where they belong Yet they move onward with the flow At dusk-time down the billabong. Dusk-time down the billabong Rambung rose and frosted glass A white man’s dream gone wrong Broken pieces of a recent past. And as always, the pastel pink and greys Dance shyly on a golden muddy billabong Reflections of mad galahs and passing days At dusk-time down the billabong.
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As a practicing artist I have travelled far and wide across Australia, walked on country, camped on country and rolled out my swag. I thank the custodians and I acknowledge the traditional owners of country throughout Australia and their continuing connection to land, culture and community. I pay my respect to Elders past and present.