Honeyed amethyst is the soft shade of twilight
as it smoothly melds with sunset's prismed hues
Moonlight glints with the glow of a lustrous pearl
Stars gleam as multifaceted as crosscut diamonds
Celestial beauty reigns in the bejeweled night sky
The Road I Didn’t Take
The smell of fresh cut pine is
a balm to my soul as the crosscut saw
works its way through the wood, fine
saw dust sprinkles the floor.
The rough palms of my hands push
the plane over the fresh cut side
of the board curly shavings fall
to the floor as the uneven edges are smoothed.
The gentle tap of the wooden mallet
to drive the chisel into the wood is
a soothing sound to my ears, wood
chips litter the table as the dado joint forms.
The hammer is suspended in mid air
ready to strike as a distant bell assault’s
my ears and I awaken to realize I am
late for my shift in the pharmacy
counting pills and worrying about insurance.
Excitement echoed
In my heart
First experience
Of being a part
Now looking back to
Those times, thoughts
Flood like the cold rain
And ties me in knots
Enthusiastically
Grabbing the end
Of the crosscut saw
Helping hand to lend
He let me slowly pull
From my point of
View, I carried my
Weight, without gloves
At seven years old
I felt a superb
Job was done by me
Now grasped being disturbed
He said to momma
Grab the other handle
I'm tired of the weight
Having her to manhandle"
Just a few short words
Made me feel
Inadequate, small
At times now inside I reel
Camaraderie
At other times shared
Loaded down with firewood
I knew he cared
Bringing in buckets
Of water
Fire starter, or feed
The cows some fodder
Forgiven years ago
But memories still haunt
That's why I write
To ease thoughts that taunt
Are the exploits slowly fading of the folk who forged this land?
Are there more important factors, today for us to understand?
Are we prepared to lose our national character?
Erase our borderlines, and forget about Australia,
where squatter and selector, fought fire, flood and drought …
the Shearer and the drover helping cut the wool clip out.
Self-reliance in this dry land; suspicious of authority,
physical and mental toughness, laconic humour tempered eagerly.
The exploits real and fabled, our robustness could quite relate,
so in our generation - old qualities are ours to celebrate,
for the musterer and stockman on a cattle or sheep run.
The swaggy and the bagman tramping 'neath the burning sun.
The diggers and the miners. with their quest for precious ore.
Bushrangers and the troopers who were the lawless and the law.
The footsteps of explorers and those who died in war.
Bullocks and the Walers; axe ring and crosscut saw.
'T'is for the struggle of our pioneers,
and who's souls we can’t restore,
that we must preserve the heritage,
of Australians who have lived before.
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