An evening walk
Posted: Tue Sep 09, 2014 6:14 pm
AN EVENING WALK
The old black kelpie knows the track
and seems exhilarated, as
the day’s last light is fading fast
to shadows in the cooling air.
Across the flats, the ordered fields
are neatly fenced by wire, between
the paddocks where the soil is ploughed
and where the lucerne’s thick and green.
From lush long feed and silage bales,
the cattle graze contentedly,
arranged by skilful farmer’s work
done carefully and patiently.
But high above the narrow road,
the deep expanse of space and sky,
reveals another hand at work,
responsive to a cosmic eye.
Magenta stains and turquoise hues
paint out the sun’s last golden light.
The moon comes up; a floating pearl,
lit up against the deep dark night.
As stars swarm out in millions like
the creatures in an endless sea
their unimagined weaving forms
a coruscating tapestry.
I wonder how the elements,
that move in that eternal plan,
devised the restless longing heart;
and where was love when time began.
I cannot touch the galaxies,
my feet scrape on the stony way
reminding me that I belong
to mundane things that pass away.
But from the vastness infinite,
can that great thought that set it there
know how we walk along the lane,
or notice this old trudging pair.
The old black kelpie knows the track
and seems exhilarated, as
the day’s last light is fading fast
to shadows in the cooling air.
Across the flats, the ordered fields
are neatly fenced by wire, between
the paddocks where the soil is ploughed
and where the lucerne’s thick and green.
From lush long feed and silage bales,
the cattle graze contentedly,
arranged by skilful farmer’s work
done carefully and patiently.
But high above the narrow road,
the deep expanse of space and sky,
reveals another hand at work,
responsive to a cosmic eye.
Magenta stains and turquoise hues
paint out the sun’s last golden light.
The moon comes up; a floating pearl,
lit up against the deep dark night.
As stars swarm out in millions like
the creatures in an endless sea
their unimagined weaving forms
a coruscating tapestry.
I wonder how the elements,
that move in that eternal plan,
devised the restless longing heart;
and where was love when time began.
I cannot touch the galaxies,
my feet scrape on the stony way
reminding me that I belong
to mundane things that pass away.
But from the vastness infinite,
can that great thought that set it there
know how we walk along the lane,
or notice this old trudging pair.
