dry spell
travelling stock forage
the long paddock
Kent Robinson
beyond this hill
another town’s faint glow . . .
birdsong
Kent Robinson
pastels . . .
blossom soft against
a spring sky
Kent Robinson
on the hill
a smudge of sunshine—
wattle grove
Kent Robinson
a
moonlight drips
from weatherworn eaves —
passing storm
a
Kent Robinson
with such grace
the black cockatoos arrive
snow on the mountain
Kent Robinson
Echidna Tracks 