Reflections

[Glen Hughes]

17 - Reflections

All are just reflections,
of our special time and place,
the golden years, in paradise,
with so much time and space.
We did it all, we had a ball,
left nothing in the tank,
contemplate with no regrets,
too many gone to thank.

Our childhood was amazing,
we all ran wild and free,
taught to swim, drive and ride,
to trap and climb a tree.
Taught to track, hunt and kill,
to skin, carve and cook,
survival skills to stay alive,
the signs and where to look.

Like brumbies in the desert,
we ran from dawn till dusk,
always mobbed together,
but always in a rush.
Rabbit traps and paper,
we’d walk and set for miles,
bunnies by the bagfuls,
we’d wander home with smiles.

Our freedom road was ended,
and our wings to fly were cut,
we’re told we had to study,
we were coached in to a hut.
Lessons posted in the mail,
attempted School by air,
minds were never on the job,
we really didn’t care.

But brumbies can be broken,
and ways of life can change,
to learn became important,
we could read and write our name.
New skills now in progress,
we loved to go to school,
pack a case, brush our hair,
attendance was the rule.

Shearing time, once a year,
weekends on the run,
to walk for miles behind the mob,
we all had so much fun.
Yard and draft, shed and pen,
to watch and learn to shear,
cards with shearers after work,
and laugh and sip their beer.

Lambs to mark, ring and tail,
fun time of the year,
run from school to the yard,
grab tails and disappear.
Little fires, poke them in,
char them up, no fear,
peel them back, slide and suck,
with black from ear to ear.

Cattle work, and horses,
to ride, watch and learn,
to block and hold up cattle,
time and place to turn.
Yard and light the fire drum,
glowing brands are hot,
calves to scruff, hold on tight,
smoke and kick and snot.

All are just reflections,
of our special time and place,
the golden years, in paradise,
with so much time and space.
We did it all, we had a ball,
left nothing in the tank,
contemplate with no regrets,
too many gone to thank.

Glen Hughes ©
29/3/22