CIRCUMSTANTIAL

[Maureen K Clifford]

CIRCIMSTANTIAL ... Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet

His profession was a drover
he took cattle on the track
In good times with grass all over
after fires through paddocks black.
He took the cattle to railheads
moved them out on the long-yard.
He took scrubbers who were bush bred
and knew not who dealt the cards.
And oft times he heard calling
round the camp as dark was falling
the voices of his children though they’d gone in sixty four,
and he’d sit then and remember
what a horrible November
that was, he’d cried for days then and would mourn for evermore.

He had no way then of knowing
droving cattle west of Tamworth ,
that his wife that day was going
to the hospital to birth
the child coming prematurely.
Not due till January.
She must take all her kids surely
no other sanctuary.
And at Morgan’s Rise contractions
created cruel distractions
that never would have happened, on any other day.
She swung the steering wheel too hard
missed the Joey by a yard -
skidded on gravel and the soft road edge just gave away.


Through thick lantana the car plunged
in its final steep descent
its off road track quickly expunged
by foliage thick. Showed not a rent.
Into the flowing creek below
with a hiss and groan it fell.
All was still. It was as though
Bell birds called the final knell.
And the magpies sung a eulogy, and top knot pigeons crooned
the day wore on and night time fell
cicadas harmonized as well
and nature’s choir mourned for those a metal shroud entombed.

Which was why he was a drover
he took memories on the track.
In good times everything clover
but often depression black.
He took cattle with his brother
moved them out on the longyard.
He took solace from the Mother
it was not her who dealt the cards.
And oft times he heard calling
round the camp as dark was falling
the voices of his family who’d walked out in sixty four.
He’d sit by the fire side wondering
what he’d do to the bloke plundering
his family were they to meet. Sadly he knew not the real score.

[Neville Briggs]

Bit of a gothic tale Maureen.

[Maureen K Clifford]

Gothic? Not sure about that - unless you mean Dark - came about from a true story told me by a NZ mate of a bloke whose car had run off the track into thick scrub on his homeward journey. His missus thought he had run off with another woman. Over 30 years later when they were finally doing up and sealing the road they found his car wreck and his remains at the bottom of a steep gully.

[Neville Briggs]

Gothic as sort of weird, dark and tragic.

I knew a bloke in Singleton who suddenly disappeared , guess what, yep he ran off with another woman.