A mile here, a mile there
Nodding in the sun, our long reins loose,
we move just faster than a man can walk on a metal road, a mile here, a mile there idly we see how the rotting goes in the bloated sheep in the slow cold creek gracefully floating the algae aside.
We go by hebe, by lacebark, lancewood
by our family reserve—we have guns and we know how to use them— bush lawyer, five fingers wave us on along the long mile, either way crunching stones with metal shoes.
A sudden sun, a breeze lifts the leaves
of clematis, it breathes, we breathe its papery flowers. Dad whistles up warbler and bellbird, who sound around us in huge clear air echo, quicksilver silvery birds.
The creek sings along, banks and swirls
bubbles deep into milky dark. Oh, eel thoughts slide along our sides. The horses’ heads nod and rise in step so humming, I poke my brother’s pony with the end of my stick to make it kick.
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