Milk of the Moment

by HAZEL HALL

i stand on the back tray of the old army truck
grasping the rail with my sisters and cousins singing

Uncle has wound his window up — cans are roped beside me
the tray is earth, and earth is farm and farm is family

the track is rougher than the farm dog’s tongue
eucalypt threads through the tang of dung and dust

our song is in rhythm with the truck — its engine is my life-pulse
happiness jolts up and down into each ridge and gutter

high on the hill the old house stands, cypresses burst with birds
a hand of smoke at the chimney top waves come in, come in

gravel flies up, smears my face and stings my skin
clouds race faster than Auntie’s tick-tock clock

the farm dog bounds behind, ears flat to his head, tail feathered
and quickly becomes a dot in the distance

joy overflows in the milk of this moment, soon the dairy man
will share a few words while exchanging full for empty

cans will rattle back to the shed, the dog will rush up for a pat
and we’ll all have breakfast together