by J F GARROW
To Rodney, and to my son
Valve opens and train follows on through the high forest,
No promises to anyone, just heat, and, also, stashed remembrances of other, older
Smutty starts, and then, on, through the high forest, through the high
Bush and running down the flora and the fauna that I catalogued, boy – I did do it –
As you know, and high above it’s always steel in this alien empyrean, and still drawing
On that, certainly, as train follows on through, as valve opens and then carefully plundering,
Carefully beginning, to open things up, clear things out, and make our sheep, or make
This revered, truculent wood, pay, as train follows on through the high forest.
Wet your whistle first, get steaming, and out, into the bush boy, to hunt,
And wet your whistle first boy, and hunt, finding their camps – making it all pay, boy.
Being brave, boy, and resourceful, gritty, simply good old mates, boy, and making it pay,
With pistons too of course, setting everyone off, pumping hard, in the tender old forest, mates,
And get back and slapping it up there with her and with the tea and toil of mutton fat-of-the-land,
And get out and trestle the woods, keeping things simple, finding camps,
As train follows through the high forest, boy, catalogued:
Victoria stamps and, cresting the hillsides with some careful gilt edges, strongly pound notes.
– East Gippsland, VIC