HEIRLOOM

tree stumps and derelict sheds
weathered the same pewter grey
stand above dense autumn grass
like roof peaks of a lost continent

down here were the civilised farms
handed on through staunch
and frugal generations
or walked off by men with no spine

all night the baptismal river
slides faith and detritus past
a prophet in a bread basket
and the stripped limbs of pines

on the access road at noon
dust of an approaching agent
topples like battle smoke over fences
where no one has given ground

ANCESTRY

a saviour who could make it rain
rode through the corner paddock
as if fences were mirages

from this direction cattle thieves
and swagmen came
and a prodigal son in each generation

the blind patriarch on his
death bed raised a hand
to bless everything in sight

tick tick tick the rain said
three drops like blood spots
in the shallows of clover foils

FOOTHOLD

wool bales loaded
from dray to scow
in the axle deep tide
and the mail
tucked in someone's
hat band for later
up at the house
by lamp or candle light
news in continuous
copperplate curls
from home
two seasons away
with the ache
and sorrow tempered
through distance
and the time between
this was a time
of silences
and armchairs
sighs and throat clearings
more difficult than bush
and small homely graves
under crosses
barely recalled

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