I took a bus;

24 long hours to Cloncurry,

escaped the hustle and the hurry

of the city and my mind.

 

I gazed as darkness chased the light

and full pouched kangas hopped aside

the weary ways of past heated times.

 

It was August when, finally, I arrived -

nearly Spring had sprung upon the place;

the million midnight stars shone in my eyes

and on my face the midday sun.

 

Sparse sparks of days burnt bright like embers;

parchment fizzling one by one,

one by one; plots made and lost

but still remembered.

 

Then, once more, some

parched, perplexing day

I squatted in the dust of dusk

contemplating constellations,

soldering my outback mind.

 

And suddenly it all made sense -

 

on the scorched, scarred road

it had all collided

and landed here

in Cloncurry.