But for the skies there are no fences facing
The crow speaks into the blue openness
I don't have to be anybody else here

Eucalypts hang lazily
This part of the earth bends into the sun
Its natural inclination

There are no labels
The cupped hands that held the rains are still there
They can't be bought or sold

I feel the press and the crowd
The roof-blown churches
The new religion loud
Where to now?

Well, just as you are

Into this landscape
Changing with the seasons
Falling and rising