Monsoons '54 Poem by Patrick Dennis

On the Drummond west slopes a boy of six
may not know the use and cause of creeks;
and think them just old earth scars
useful to string waterholes for stock.

So when the great north monsoon floats midsummer
to dump the distilled burden of an alien sea
the boy learns the scars must bear the deluge
and rip and outbreak for new wounds.

At six the boy sees from the homestead
the ring-around creeks rise to flood and thinks
bliss is an island.
But bliss is the bringer of foreign seas
which rip and scar through the heart.
At six a boy must learn new words for new scars.