Above that line cut through the bush, every day another push. Barry and his cat's were there too, to make the roads find water new. The people they could not accept, this valley would meet a watery death. Each day as the cat's started up, the noise did in this bush erupt. Belching smoke rings above the trees, then crushing all the grass and leaves.
Drilling rigs put boreholes down, made a loud stamping sound.
Fine brown dust in the heat did rise, to coat my body and silt my eyes. Men then came and hit in pegs, as what would be the waters edge. Tires burst and engines boiled, as every day the eight trucks toiled. Further down the valley rift, men did pour the concrete swift. A coffer dam across half the space, to aid them in the building race.