Stirrup iron to stirrup iron
They rode the dusty track, She sat upon the dapple grey He rode the fiery black. They pushed along at a faster trot To beat the fading light, Behind them lay thirty miles Of running from the night. The haunting thoughts of dark events Seemed to lurk close all day, In the urgent beat of the horse’s feet On the dry and stony clay. But oh! how a man’s heart Can turn him far away From what he knows is right And how he finds his way When in a moment of beating pride He throws his weight around, To break and bust his very world And leave a man on the ground. While she is caught in a rushing stream Of regrets and hopes and fear, The long dusk shadows wheel them on Through the tall, dense forests so near. The horses seem caught in the very mood And hardly show the strain Of pushing hard the whole day long – The black still leans on curb and chain. He knows the country pretty well From working stock and plant, As a keen, young, blonde-haired bloke In old Mac’s mustering camp. As now they climb the Snowgum ridge The horses show the foam, And they push along the old wing fence Where the bucks were turned for home. It can’t be far to that sheltered hollow And to the bleached and leaning hut By a spring-fed mountain stream Where the long day’s ride will cut. In a moment of feeling free and wild From the burden of his trials, He gives the black his fiery head And puts him at the rails. But the spring in his horse is nearly done And he clips the top of the fence, To land in one big messy heap Of man and leather and beast. And now, in her own good time, Her thoughts return to where he lay. It may be fifty years down the track But it still takes her breath away. For even now she feels the passion As she sits in an old cane chair, Dappled by the golden grapes In the cool verandah air While in the yard the boisterous kids Romp with the dogs at play, And together with the old grey woman Enjoy their youth’s bright day.
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Author"Words are clumsy pretenders of the images of my mind." Categories
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May 2017
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As a practicing artist I have travelled far and wide across Australia, walked on country, camped on country and rolled out my swag. I thank the custodians and I acknowledge the traditional owners of country throughout Australia and their continuing connection to land, culture and community. I pay my respect to Elders past and present.