ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

CHILLED TO THE BONE

I cursed the biting southern wind that tore now through our camp,
where I was damn near freezing and the world looked bleak and damp.
I prayed the sun would soon break through; or that the wind would die,
but still the clouds looked ominous while streaking through the sky.

The campfire roared and sparks flew out while chucking on more wood,
to try and beat near Arctic gusts that lashed the place I stood.
Some nearby stock stood shivering exposed there in the breeze,
as patiently they waited for an easing of this freeze.

My mate was stamping round the place and trying to get warm,
and muttered that he’d rather see a decent summer storm.
He’d sooner have the heat and flies than put up with this chill,
we’d never seen the likes of this before at Red Dog hill.

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©T.E. Piggott

Good on you Terry - you made it look easy Nicely worded

Goodonya Terry.

Hi Maureen & Neville

That chilly wind in the poem usually comes from the southeast and it can be bitter.
Especially if you're working out on the lakes with no protection; makes me shiver just thinking about it.

Cheers Terry