The Hawskebury

Taking off to the clouds, way up high the pelican flies

Staring down, the water flows and the black swans paddle

At the water bank the mud arises as debris is woken from its calm slumber

The lands of growth

Plains of colours, all sorts stretched across the lowlands

The paddocks like patterns,  of oranges, reds, cream, yellows, 

And the brightest green

Shimmering blue hints of grey and the underlying browns

The colours mixing, changing, and folding over each other 

The lands of the living

Over the bridge on the other side the farmers grow, 

Turf farms further than the eye could see

In the end it is our land to care