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Under the Southern Cross


I am tired of snowmen and sleighs
While we swelter in summer heat.
I am tired of talk of Jack Frost
While we struggle with swollen feet.

No glistening snow in our lane
And no snowman called “Parson Brown”.
It is sun block and sunhats
And “Do we really have to go to town.?”

Our meadow is a thirsty paddock
And a farmer reaping grain,
The ever-present fear of bushfire
And a land that cries out for rain.

No Yule log and no mistletoe,
No frosty morning air ~
Just endless days of summer
And children without a care.

It's splashing in a swimming pool
And walking on the beach.
It’s lovely summer meals and fruits
Cherries, apricots and peach.

It is insect repellent
And Carols in the Park,
Children in pyjamas
Waiting for the dark

It is seafood and salads,
Icy cold drinks and ice cream
It is holiday time and friendship
Such joy these things mean.

It is travelling many outback miles
At night to avoid the heat.
It is the joy of catching up
And the friends that we meet.

It is the friendly handshake
Underneath a sky of blue.
It is the “welcome to my home”
It is the “I have missed you”

Christmas under the Southern Cross
In a vast and “Wide Brown Land”.
Is really not very different
When we feel friendship’s hand.

So as we celebrate again this year
And we delight in the Christmas season~
Let’s remember it matters not where we are,
What matters is the reason.


© Linda J. Vaughan

December 16th. 2003

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