The continent as crucible,
in raw and tattered form,
from scattered edge of ocean;
the outback vast is born.
The mist of time does mirror,
this curved and skirted land,
where songline chimes eternal;
draws magic from life's hand.
In soil, straw and rock it breathes,
of red-dust timeless truth,
where scale of man is minimal;
and ancient gods still rule.
http://dversepoets.com/2014/10/27/pubtalk-my-country-tis-of-thee/#comments
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