Ex Bushman

[Glen Hughes]

20 - Ex-Bushmen

I’m cooped up in the City,
and I’m suck here in this rain,
and it trips me in to visions,
Coopers Creek and flooding plains,
Just rooves and rows of houses,
are all that I can see,
and I’m wondering are there any
old ex- bushmen here like me.

Cars that race past daily,
are all low and loud and flash,
round and round the block they ride,
I brace my self for Crash.
I’d like to see these youngsters
in the Utes we drove out bush,
they wouldn’t make it past Red Hill,
or Pirie at a push.

Jet planes screaming over head,
come and go each way,
Covid in, Covid out,
more dead every day.
So here I am, locked in, locked out,
Mobile phone for talking,
all vacced up, no where to go,
my fingers do the walking.

I’m grateful for my WiFi,
in this Hi Tech World we share,
photos, thoughts and memories,
all cloud stored with care.
Back and forth is instant,
with just a finger tap,
telegrams we’re all we had,
dot point, without the crap.

So I’m sitting back in wonder,
and so grateful for my life,
I know I’ve made a difference,
with three kids and a wife,
And my grandkids nine in number,
I cherish every day,
FaceTime, makes it possible,
to watch them grow and play.

But i’m cooped up in the City,
and i’m stuck here in this rain,
there’s a longing for the outback,
with it’s floods and soaking plains,
Just rooves and rows of houses,
are all that I can see,
and i’m wondering are there any
old ex- bushmen here like me.

And I’m wondering are there many
old ex-bushmen stuck like me.

Glen Hughes ©
20/1/22