We’re heading north to Exmouth,
Carnarvon we’ve just passed.
We be driving up a serpent road,
As the country seems so vast.
It’s hot outside, but in this van,
The air cons on and all,
As all along the road we pass,
Little goats, so beautiful….
And everywhere, most endlessly,
There’s a billion termite mounds.
Like baked brown little mountains,
They’re everywhere around.
We stopped near one, I marveled,
That a tiny beast, and blind!
Could build these blessed monuments,
It nearly blew my mind.
I took me then some photographs
Of these engineering feats,
As I let the awe and wonder,
Into my dull mind seep.
In such a vast, still country,
In the silence of the way,
Those mounds stood out so powerful,
In the heat of a sunburned day.