THE DROVER

THE DROVER

Diamonds peppered a sapphire sky
‘twas a signal his day was at end.
His stock horse needed feeding he knew,
and to her he had to attend.
Before he even sustained himself,
he released his horse from the saddle
And there in the moonlight,
carefully trod his mare in cool waters to paddle.

A campfire built, the night would be cold
there was tea in the billy to savour
With roo on the griddle, spuds from a bag
and a little goanna for flavour.
He couldn’t deny it, the day had been long
the seat of his pants were well worn
But this was his lifeline, a dream he had harboured
an ambition since the day he was born.
Exhausted, he lay on a mattress of grass
with the campfire’s embers aglow
And the battered Akubra dipped low on his brow
in the distance he heard the creek flow.
The mare had acknowledged nightfall as it came
and with it a dusting of sterling
As the moon rose above painting them silver
until morning when dawn was unfurling.
The eastern horizon was stained with crushed rose
and tangerine splintered its seams
The pathway to home, yet a long road to trek,
the distance hampered his dreams.
Both were now wearied, the mare trudged along
their work was left far behind.
They had both toiled hard and both earned their pay
and now it was time to unwind.
Home was the mountains where the wind whistled through
and leaves turned cartwheels in vales
Where stables were warm and hay was aplenty
and an abundance of grass grew in the dales.
A place where the sun shone upon her bare back
and he whistled tunes in the evening
And there they would stay ‘til next coming of spring
‘til the midst when once again they’d be leaving.
It was a life of adventure, a life he enjoyed
and one she spent by his side.
They had been one in the mountains and one on the trail
as over the land they would glide.
But while Jack Frost embroidered the mountain air with his mist
and snow shrouded their home in white lace
They’d wait ‘til the winter left on silent feet
and spring waltzed again in her place.

Then one afternoon as they wind splintered her side
and gales rushed over her withers
She felt distress in her belly which was swollen with foal
as she lay in the grass as she shivered.
The pain was immense and she whickered in vain
for it stabbed her, it shattered and tore
Through her veins as the foal pushed through her soft flesh
and suddenly, her image was born.
And the drover whose Akubra dipped low over his eyes
heaved a sigh, it was all over now.
His heart strings were tugging, a grin cross his mouth
as he swept the sweat from his brow.
And feeling ecstatic, his eyes adhered to the foal,
she was a wonder creation bequeathed
Then his eyes met her mother and he quietly asked her
when was it that she had deceived?
He chuckled with mirth remembering the night
they had waded in water so clear
And the stallion who’d watched from the shadows that eve.
When had he come so near?
With a dip of his battered Akubra he bade
mother and daughter good night
And left them together in the warmth of their stable
his heart was soaring in flight.

The years had been kind as each one had passed.
The foal now a mare of pure grace
Had learned of the toil, the freedom of life
and the rewards of a wide open space.
They travelled the trails, three of them now
the drover’s harboured dreams had lived on
Until she drove to the end, the mare was now tired
she died in her peace – she had gone.

It wasn’t the same now, none of it was.
The drover knew she was only on lend
The foal was full grown, but she pined for her teacher,
her mentor, her mother, her friend.
A lifetime of giving, she had never complained,
but one is on earth but a moment
And it occurred to the drover as he watched the sun set
God was his only opponent.
And as all good things do, his life came to a close
one night when the moon shone in glory
For the drover not young, had discovered in life ...
there must always be an end to a story.