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Poetry Pleases: Hattah Lakes

Cecily Cross writes of a peaceful place where you hear curlew's lonely call.

The rich hunting grounds are silent,
emu and kangaroo roam free.
Goanna and tortoise, no delicacy now,
are undisturbed.

The reflective waters lie
unrippled by prow of bark canoe
or the women's hunting hands
near the middened shore.

Pelicans glide in the thermals
and all is still.

The new-age hunters come
seeking ephemeral peace
beside the placid waters
and under the ancient gums.

Before the sun has dropped
they too have gone
leaving the empty sunset
and the curlew's lonely call.

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