A singleness of purpose beneath a blazing sun
It’s yarning by the fire whilst chores remain undone
It’s sharing an ice-cream with your children in the park
Weeping softly, lonely in your room when it is dark
It’s cursing ’neath an onslaught, the myriad of pests
And it’s sowing by moonlight when you would rather rest
Seasons move relentless out across the western plane,
Summer into autumn, winter, spring, then back again
Brilliant stars are canopied and seem just out of reach
Glorious sunsets greet you, and goodness, what a treat!
A dusty heat haze gathers, its rivulets to spread
Breathe chocking wretchedness, beneath and overhead
Weeks turn into dreary months—stock are slowly dying
Water carted endlessly; red, brown earth is frying
Melancholy notes sound forth from magpie perched on high
I love his tenacity; it’s drought, but he’ll still try!
Farmers talk has turned to gloom, the rain they’re not receiving
Can they meet their mortgages—some consider leaving
At last! Longed for rain pelts down, smiles soon start appearing,
But will it end, this dreadful drought? Not yet, we are fearing
Weakened stock held fast in mud; curse the rising water!
Cruel drought has turned to flood on thirst Riverina
A soft green tinge has pushed its way through paddocks thinning
Our stock will quickly fatten up, could it be a new beginning?
Country is the contentment of knowing that when the day is through,
The friends which we have gathered will always stay ‘true blue’
It’s a feeling of belonging, a peace that’s seldom known,
Such sweet music for the soul, a place that I call home!
Bio: JH says that this piece was written about life in the Riverina, New South Wales. Sheep and wheat farming can be quite difficult at times. There are pluses though … the night sky for instance (with so many stars seemingly just out of reach!)