Echoes from the Outback

Beneath the harsh Australian sun, where shadows paint the land,

A pioneer, with calloused hands, tills fields with stoic stand.

His furrowed face, a weathered map, of hardships etched in lines,

Tells tales of struggle, hope, and grit, through droughts and changing times.

He wakes with dawn, a symphony of birds his morning call,

And greets the day with weary limbs, but spirit strong and tall.

With sun-kissed brow and eyes that squint, against the sky so bright,

He guides the plough across the earth, a battle for each bite.

He plants the seeds of dreams and hope, in soil that's hard and dry,

And prays for rain to nourish them, beneath a scorching sky.

His weathered hands, with gentle touch, nurture life from dust,

And watch as crops rise green and tall, a testament to trust.

He battles bushfires' raging wrath, and floods that sweep the land,

He mends his fences, hunts for food, with calloused, steady hand.

He builds his home with stone and wood, a haven from the storm,

And shares his meals with weary travellers, keeping family warm.

He raises children strong and true, teaches them to face each dawn,

With courage, kindness, resilience, lessons hard-won and drawn.

He teaches them to love the land, despite its harsh embrace,

And find in toil and simple life, an enduring, lasting grace.

So let us raise a glass to him, the pioneer so bold,

Whose sweat and tears enriched the soil, a story yet untold.

He built a nation from the dust, with grit and spirit strong,

May his legacy forever live, in every farmer's song.

© 2024 Peter Pickering