CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE - rewritten

[Maureen K Clifford]

Funny the things that make one write poetry. Today's paper tells a story of a lady in Tumut trapped underneath her car for 3 days before being found by chance even though she went missing on Christmas Day. No family or friends seemed to know where she was as her phone batteries had died and she was unable to make contact. My NZ friends told me some time ago of a car being found with skeleton in it of a bloke thought to have run off from his family twenty years previously. He had - run off the road into thick scrub on the side of a mountain. My own fear of a section of road I had to traverse going into town from the property where the possibility of meeting the same fate and sliding over the edge was always uppermost in my mind.


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE - rewrite


He made a living as a drover,
also took memories on the track.
In good times - everything clover,
more 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.
In his head he heard them calling
round the camp as dark was falling,
remembered voices of his wife and kids - 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. Revenge was all he saw.

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,
in a hurry to be there.
She must take all three kids surely
no one else was there to care.
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 loose gravel and the soft road edge just gave way.

Through lantana thick the car plunged
in its final steep descent
its off road track was 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.

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 cattle to the railheads
Moved them out on the longyard.
He took scrubbers who were bush bred
and knew not who dealt the cards.
He thought he heard kids calling
round the camp as dark was falling
the voices of his children though they’d left in sixty four,
and he’d sit then and remember
how he cried throughout November.
Circumstantial evidence believed, though 'twas not the final score.

Maureen Clifford © 01/12






CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
- original write

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 longyard.
He took scrubbers who were bush bred
and knew not who dealt the cards.
And oft time 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
they'd 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 the gravel and the road edge gave away.

Through thick lantana the car plunged
on its final steep descent
its off road track quickly expunged
thick foliage 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.

Heart weary was this drover
who 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 time he heard calling
round the camp as dark was falling
the voices of his wife and kids though they'd left him in sixty four.
He’d sit by the fire side wondering
what he’d do to the bloke plundering
his family were he to meet him. Sadly he knew not the real score.

Maureen Clifford © 12/11

[Maureen K Clifford]

I rewrote this as a few friends had commented that the meaning was unclear even though I thought the Title would have given it away - perhaps they had not the eyes to see