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Quintessentially AustralianA dust storm rolls across from the desert, Driven relentlessly by dry westerly winds, Leaving a coat from the dusty red centre. As it fills every nook and cranny it finds, Those drying winds create a field of static, Blue arcs of electricity from each car door, Slowly our skin is deprived of its moisture, Our throats so dry, as we parch to the core, Many animals grazing in the longest paddock, Such meagre rations by the side of the road, Neighbours trucks deliver hay to keep going, As other farmers attempt to share the load, Westward we gaze across to an orange sunset, Just wishing for laden clouds instead of dust, Yes we know the particularities of this country, As we learn to work with adversity if we must, The green pastures can deliver a bowl of plenty, Alas a land with changing fortunes here to stay, This big country will never let us rest our laurels, She may decide to giveth or easily take it all away Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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