Man of the Land

One suspects a matagouri temperament Upon first glimpsing that weathered face. Wrinkles extending like braided rivers Life of tussles and toils, to demonstrate. No stranger to heat or an icy shiver Indeed he thrives on the wide-open space. For living on the land he has chosen Family provision his precious mandate. Green land he’s seen, as it alters to brown Faced the irony in dense drifts of white snow. Worked in hot sun, until chilled from deep sweat His path's always straight, head never down. Famine next fortune, then dancing with debt Passion persists, despite varying blows. Quitting is failure akin to inept No envy endures of those living in town. Spells spent alone doesn’t mean solitude For companions thrive for those that will see. Colourful hebes, or when a kea flies by Land always varies, indeed a joy to be viewed. No clock to watch while there’s light in the sky Family time not a whim of the breeze. Other company not sought but never denied For life on the land is fulfilment accrued. 2nd April 2016