ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

Fhina and Sam


Found in a cave hidden ‘neath willow roots,
child lived with foxes, vermin farmers shoot.
Curled on the fleece of what was a prize lamb
shepherd who heard his weak cries – named him Sam.
Wrapped the child up in a blanket of wool
took him away to the town Warrnambool,
raised him to be the son he never had
taught him his letters, and taught good from bad.

Sam would remember his old fox lair home
always,through life in the bush he would roam.
Tom who had found him could understand why
Sam had become the apple of his eye.
Never to foxes did Sam raise a gun, for
reared as their cub he was their human son.
One vixen always came straight to his call.
One he called Fhina he loved best of all.

Fhina had fur flaming red like the sun.
Brush thick and fluffy, and brown eyes that shone.
Fhina the fox was a huntress with flair
‘twas Fhina had carried Sam into her lair.
Sams hair in sunlight had a reddish sheen,
sometimes those early days seemed like a dream.
Always he held a great affinity
with animals as anybody could see

Fhina passed on, young Sam found her one day
curled at caves entrance – life had slipped away.
Gently he cradled her in his strong arms.
Buried her deep to keep her safe from harm.
Sat for a while staring at sky of blue
wondering now what he really should do.
Thought conservation would answer his call.
Veterinary science would let him help all.

Tom saw the wisdom, he would help the lad
always he’d given the best that he had.
Old now himself and with bones stiff and sore
here was a chance for one man to do more.
Decades have passed and old Tom now has gone .
Lies beside Fhina – placed there by his son.
On land that now is owned and run by Sam,
green paddocks scattered with ewe and with lamb.

Sam they call ‘silver fox ‘– known all around.
Sam is a vet who will travel from town
out to your property, daytime or night.
Animal welfare is strong in his sight.
Sam’s flock has never been threatened by fox;
sometimes at night he sits there on the rocks
by Fhina ‘s grave and the grave of old Tom
waiting in moonlight for fox cubs to come.

They play contented around old Sam’s feet.
Vixen has rubbed up against him to greet.
Sam has some leftover meat from his tea
and shares it with her as they sit ‘neath the tree
that now shades the gravesite of Fhina and Tom
filtering sunlight through days hot and long.
There’s an affinity ‘tween fox and Sam,
‘twas Fhina who saved him. Tom made him a man



Maureen Clifford © 06/12

_________________
Check out The Scribbly Bark Poets blog site here -
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/


To the home of a friend the way is never long
the welcome is always warm and the Billy always on.

Very nice Maureen! Sort of soft and appealing.
I can feel your love of land and animals coming through.
Thanks for sharing
Dot

Once again, another beauty.
Jim.

_________________
Writer of Rhyme havin' a Good Time.

a Backward Poet who Writes Inverse.