By Jeff Austin – CONTACT magazine

Jim

Let’s call him Jim, ‘cause that’s what she called him Outback Jackaroo, farmer, brother, privileged class A time of brotherhood,

The bugler could no longer belt out a harmonious tune The musicians long since replaced by a mechanical croon One

It hadn’t rained for five years and more Then it rained non-stop with more in store The black-soil plains abutted