THE BRUMBY AND THE BOY
Posted: Sun Jul 20, 2014 9:03 am
The Brumby and the Boy
Maureen Clifford © The Scribbly Bark Poet
He was only a young bloke a tiny wee scrap
and his horse was much bigger than him
but they had a rapport which was quite plain to see
when together - just like Huck and Finn
The horse was a brumby, a fine looking mare
a chestnut with gleaming red hide.
The little bloke’s hat was just a shade too big
but his ears kept it clear of his eyes.
They didn’t need words to express how they felt
they shared every hour of their days,
the little bloke holding onto the lead rope
and the chestnut mare content to graze.
Sometimes in reflection they both sat and stared
at the distant horizon and hills.
She dreamt of the freedom of running the range
and he dreamt of a fast ride and thrills.
He wasn’t quite big enough yet his Dad said
to take Adelong for a ride
but soon he’d be five and then Dad had promised
that he could mount her up, sit astride.
She hadn’t been broken to saddle as yet
but they’d both learn together you see.
He’d learn how to guide her and coax her along
and she’d learn she was no longer free.
And yet she was lucky – a small price to pay
for she’d only find gentleness here.
No more would she run from the choppers bright blades,
no more would her heart pound with fear.
For here she was valued – no feral pest this
but a cobber, a friend and a mate
though sometimes a hint of sadness crossed her eye
as she gazed at far hills from the gate.
Maureen Clifford © The Scribbly Bark Poet
He was only a young bloke a tiny wee scrap
and his horse was much bigger than him
but they had a rapport which was quite plain to see
when together - just like Huck and Finn
The horse was a brumby, a fine looking mare
a chestnut with gleaming red hide.
The little bloke’s hat was just a shade too big
but his ears kept it clear of his eyes.
They didn’t need words to express how they felt
they shared every hour of their days,
the little bloke holding onto the lead rope
and the chestnut mare content to graze.
Sometimes in reflection they both sat and stared
at the distant horizon and hills.
She dreamt of the freedom of running the range
and he dreamt of a fast ride and thrills.
He wasn’t quite big enough yet his Dad said
to take Adelong for a ride
but soon he’d be five and then Dad had promised
that he could mount her up, sit astride.
She hadn’t been broken to saddle as yet
but they’d both learn together you see.
He’d learn how to guide her and coax her along
and she’d learn she was no longer free.
And yet she was lucky – a small price to pay
for she’d only find gentleness here.
No more would she run from the choppers bright blades,
no more would her heart pound with fear.
For here she was valued – no feral pest this
but a cobber, a friend and a mate
though sometimes a hint of sadness crossed her eye
as she gazed at far hills from the gate.
but Horses , Dogs and sheep are my top three.