A journey through Australias Snowy Mountains in the life of a drover and his love for life |
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. |