Clyde loves his farm
And he loved his wife Ellie.
He works long hours,
His farm more than viable.
He is comfortable now.
The years of battling
Learning the land
Understanding the elements,
Has paid off.
He strides across the home paddock,
Opens the old wooden gate and allows
Anxious cattle to move
To a new feed lot.
He sits on a log near the fence.
Rolls himself a smoke, taking in the morning air.
His blue cattle dog,
Is now dozing at his feet.
He grins, nudges her with his foot
She responds by pricking her ears
Opening one eye then slowly closing back to slumber.
Clyde has a reputation around the district
He is a no nonsense spades are spades man.
He works hard and he plays hard
He was feared on the football field.
Now he is older, a little more mellow
No longer does he fly off the handle
When an obstacle confronts him
His Ellie had much to do with that
A gentle and loving soul
She was his perfect match.
Today he has a job in the south paddock.
He mounts his bay quarter horse,
Whistles to the dog
Trots off to the south.
It is just on dawn, the sun has poked its head
Over the eastern hill,
Long spidery fingers of heat
Sneak their way down into the valley.
He enjoys this time of day, peaceful, tranquil,
Time stands still for him, no rush
The day’s chores can wait,
He rides along the well-worn track.
He listens as the kookaburras
Laugh their greeting to the new day
Watches the magpies as they strut
Amongst trees and broken branches.
He admires the patch of wild bush flowers
The pink Dancing Queens and bush daisies
Always in bloom at this time of year.
Stops, walks amongst the riot of colour,
Gathering a rough posy,
He selects only the strongest blooms
A bent piece of fencing wire secures them.
A little way further he stops beside a small fenced grave.
He falls to his knees and pulls the weeds away
Cursing under his breath his own neglect.
He clears the debris and set his flowers
Spreading them across the grave,
Satisfied he has them as he wants
He sits back, it is his time to reflect,
To remember the young Ellie he brought
Home to the farm house that wasn’t much
No floor and no water save for the
Creek, a hundred yards away.
As is his want Clyde sits quietly,
The dog moves in and sits beside him,
Nuzzles Clyde’s face as the man succumbs
To a grief that never fades.
* This is another of my 40 years ago poems that I have re-worked.
Morpethroad 
This is an enjoyable read it’s lie following a journey.
Thanks Kim, yes it is. Are you ok today?
Yes a little sore but well. 🙂 thanks for asking. What are you doing up? it’s 4:30pm here so it must be 4:30 am there.
no we are 16 hours ahead of you, way out in the future, its 8.40 am here. Good to hear you are doing ok…
Ok I’ll try to keep up with that. My cousins wife just arrived in the States from Auckland, New Zealand. My cousin is so happy he was separate from his son and wife for several months.
yes separations can have benefits…lol…..New Zealand is two hours ahead of us…
Literally the other side of he world. I’m a true American very bad with geology. 🙂
Ha your geography isn’t too good either….lol….we are along way away…..and we look amazingly similar…..
Ha yes my spelling sucks. For some reason I make mistakes as I’m typing and then I notice but at times I don’t. I can’t explain how my mind is working these days. Can’t blame it on the kindle this time. 🙂
All is good we all make mistakes. I do most of the tyme…..
🙂 I know. For me my slips are scary right now.
What a journey we travelled, I would say a short story. I was taken to the farm to riding Jessie picking the flowers, being nuzzled by rusty. Realistic right down to the bent wire holding the posy. A lovely story Michael with lots of imagery.
Thanks Jenny, the story is the same from 40 years ago, just a little more erudite years later.
That I realise, I’m amazed you have kept hold of work from so long ago and impressed. – smiles
still have a few more to play with yet..
🙂
You know, I like Clyde.
You have to love a bushy Professor. Thanks for reading…
What does Bushy mean, my man?
In Australia anywhere pretty much outside the cities is called the bush. The people who live there and who work the land as does Clyde is referred to as a bushy.It’s a term of endearment not derogatory. I hope that has cleared up that for you, any other help I can give you as to our quaint ways Professor just ask away.
Dear professor you are a man of learning I am sure but like all of us learned types you know somethings not everything. Happy to be able to add to your world knowledge.
Thank you! That helps. At times the professor can be quite dull.
sweet 🙂
Thanks Courtney, lovely to see you this morning/afternoon wherever you are in the world.
I be in the great state of Texas! 🙂 It is almost quittin time here now~
Ok well have a good evening then, its 10.30 am Thursday here In Australia……thankfully today is a cool day….
That is an excellent poem. I love the fact that he still thinks of her after all these years.
Thanks Al, love can be that strong
Yes it can. It is nice to witness it sometimes as well
Yes it is I am in awe of those people who can maintain life long relationships.
My parents celebrate their golden anniversary this year 🙂
That’s amazing Al, and they still like each other. We did ok with the haibun you think?
Well, I wouldn’t say they like each other haha.
I think it went well for a first week. There were some from people I have never seen before. I was impressed with that.
I think so Al, I invited everyone I thought of, some people are a little afraid of the haibun…
It is something completely new to them. Give it time, and they will see what it is like, and that we don’t change the rules as we see fit.
Exactly I think it’s been great. Well done Al I even got a troll piece in, but where is Pirate?
Maybe we should invite him 😉 😆
I know Anja was thinking about it, that how I wrote that piece trying to show the trolls could be nice.
I did like that. So funny 🙂
we may be trolls Al but we are nice ones….
Oh yes we are 🙂
What a great love… I enjoyed too. Thank you, love, nia
Thanks Nia, happy you enjoyed this piece.
Ahhh…A forever love…
Thanks RoSy, I am happy you enjoyed this one.
You post & I like…only because there’s no love button. I really do enjoy your thoughts, words, poetry, stories…and of course – your charming personality! 😉
Thank you so much RoSy, such flattery, is there something you want? I do so love receiving your comments.
You’re welcome.
Of course there is something that I want…
…For you to keep on blogging. 🙂
Oh really, but I’m a retired gentleman, a pensioner, do I have to?
Oh only if you do too!
Deal?
LOL
Deal 🙂
I love this story and it reads so slow and calmly. It is great that you have kept your stories from the past.
Great I could rework them and that I enjoy doing so. I still have more to work on. Thank you for that kind comment Oliana .
Beautiful, you write very believable characters so vividly!! 🙂 🙂
Thank you Helen that is a very kind comment.
Tranquil, yet sad, thoughts on persistent grief…
Thanks so much Lindy I appreciate you commenting on my work.