I was in this creekbed the previous day
but it was a merciless heat, and I wilted. Next morning,
around 7am, I made this image of the creekline. There
were no waterholes, and no signs of large animals. A few crows
were complaining about the lack of rain to anyone who'd listen,
and some parrots and finches were around. This was
evidence, of course, that a waterhole or soak of some sort was
only a mile or two away from where I stood.

"Core of my heart, my country!
Her pitiless blue sky,
When, sick at heart, around us
We see the cattle die –
But then the grey clouds gather,
And we can bless again
The drumming of an army,
The steady soaking rain."
More from 'My Country' by Dorothea McKellar