When winter comes,

I like to go

where yellow wild flowers

grow beside the road –

the scent of blue gum

mingles with the cold clean air

and you can see the sky

forever there –

where willy-wagtails

often catch a cheeky ride

on backs of unsuspecting sheep

and mushrooms hide

in secret places

the willows are not weeping there

but shining wet with dew,

where every creature wakes from sleep

to a world all fresh and new

and nature seems to set us free –

when winter comes

that’s where I like to be –