Foreign Soils

I drove south where all the dirt was foreign

And the old jeans

Green dreams

Patchy outlines out there in the sun

Came undone

The little that I had out there was gone

I think less without a covered chest

All the simple signals

Come into fruition in the cold

It'll take control

Settle without knowing where you're going

Where you going?

Freezing seas

And as the morning's foggy

Every blue gum takes a

Different imitation in the dawn

Nestled under falls

Huon pine and mountain ashes grow

Ancient landscapes

Held in portraits

Laying dormant

Living in the focus and the tone

Day is at a close

As the sky is changin'

I suppose I'll be going

I'll be going