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
Copyright © Mark Woods | Year Posted 2016