24 August 2015


You wouldn’t rate The Creek an unsafe place to 
play unless your dogginess invades; its then an 
angel fears to tread domain with bandicoots too 
braw to leave to be; so Massey has to chase or 
wear the ridicule implied in Podge’s sneer - & if 
one runs away you hunt it to its lair he says, an 
honour for the only prey we found today - while 
she guffaws at we; why you weren’t even there 

Wasn’t far away he said - y’ went another track, 
like a bandicoot I keep Th’ Creek in view, that’s 
methodology th’ same as mine for you, - so we 
were bound to meet sometime beside th’ deep, 
and there the game became a chase at frantic 
pace from creek across the road to far away 

Last I hear is barking treed half-a-mile off to th’ 
east - sounds like Podge I would agree; but no 
response to whistles bring relief, so I depart th’ 
scene - prepared for certain grief if neither are 
asleep in bed by 6 pm, M’Lady’s back by then 
and explanations need to have a happy end 

I found th’ miscreants by driving Ute on tracks 
you’d misconstrue as paths for hokum views - 
they had come back to where their ‘coot had 
recently vacated keen to start the race again - 
that is until th’ Ute hove into sight; a ride they 
knew - delight expressed in weary eyes 

© 30 July 2015, I. D. Carswell

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