Doug Manders: 3 books

The parrots screech, the currawongs flee. The sentinels stand, with their fist of iron hold. Upon the hill they stand. The twisted sentinels stand as it bows to the wind. With its arms stretched out to the foreboding storm clouds across the range. The foreboding dark sky dances with the branches in...

On those cold days, with the wind in your face. With the cloud swirling around ,the dancing SNOWGUMS . I really can get lost ,in my thoughts and forget the world , in general. With the so called reality of doom and gloom. Which we all put upon ourselves, in our world Maybe, that is the reality we...

The parrots screech, the currawongs flee. The sentinels stand, with their fist of iron hold. Upon the hill they stand. The twisted sentinels stand as it bows to the wind. With its arms stretched out to the foreboding storm clouds across the range. The foreboding dark sky dances with the branches in...