While I have been out hiking in the Flinders ranges, I have created a poem of my experience. It was four days ago ten boys put on a show they packed their bags and left home by dawn. They made no drag as they passed the storm. The boys skip stones and they gather in drove 10, 12, 21 they skip and they have fun. Fishing in the Frome far, far from home. Swimming too, a wicked view wet shoes from the dew. Boots has shelter by the Gammon he shows a place which we gather. sausage, stories, even pancakes all in exchange for a fruit cake. Under a tarp still with no carp. Handmade trenches brew, fire and benches showers of rain we feel no pain and we hike onto the next Sad, sad stories under Mt. Rose and glory. We stress and we hike and cry with all might all to fall with a smile. Onto the next, passed something vile. Packed up and damp Barbecue at next camp. Just one short walk then twelve hours to talk.
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