Epigraph: Drought Judith Bandidt
Day upon day with no relief as the pastures bake in the searing heat, when the water-tanks and bores give out we know we're facing drought. As the dams dry up to stinking bogs the cattle stand in hopeless mobs, for the dingoes stalk them as they graze and watch through the shimmering haze. The crops die off, just a waste of time, bullocks are sold before their prime, and we graze the roads 'mid dust and flies while fodder prices rise. Our family's future lies in this land but it can't work out now as we planned, the man from the bank's been 'round again- and still it hasn't tained. 1994.
