This Whole Place Is Home

Watching me don my walking boots from the gate 

‘bout 50 metres away, and echoing an eagerness 

to get going suggests that my mate Podge’s idea 

of a stroll needs little preparation; well he’s ready 

th’ instant a notion to promenade’s agreed, altho’ 

it isn’t exactly clear who is conducting whom, nor 

to where each occasion; today’s heading is off in 

an animated impression of a trip to the dam 

So I greet fourteen young Norfolk Pine seedlings 

shooting at the track’s beginning - & Podge sniffs 

breezily up the trail, peeing on things needing an 

olfactory who’s boss signature - & he never runs 

dry I note as we make our arthritic way at a cost 

of creaking limbs and none-too-steady footing  

But that is the least of the adventure - halfway up 

the crest after th’ dam we spy a wallaby doing its 

dash to greener fields - Podge pretends to be th’ 

dominant beast in a Boss Dog caricature - but it 

peters out without disturbing cattle lying at rest - 

diligently, you guess, chewing th’ morning’s cud 

There y’ go, I say to my cobber, who’s slow pace 

is now a geriatric shuffle, we’re half way, reckon I 

can beat you home without using any energy - its 

an audaciously brazen challenge that he ignores, 

there is no way he’d rise to bait of being first t’ th’ 

home gate, as he says, this whole place is home 

© 11 Jun 2016, I. D. Carswell