we took a walk down Hedgend Lane
squeezed it in ‘tween showers of rain
a short walk from the bogie road
walking to an end unknown
with us walking we took the whippet
keen as mustard leashed and at it
we set off into an icy grind
tempting fate against winter’s mind
the road was dirt puddles like scales
the wind was cold sharp as nails
the sky was grey and overcast
prophesising an arctic blast
we met two cockies one unwell
the other uted name of Neville
we chewed the fat for a moment or two
then nev went off to feed his ewes
he knew our house and seller’s name
said she fell victim to a scam
he asked about the other cock
down the road about a block
we said we saw its damaged wing
we couldn’t get close to do a thing
nev had been asked by his lovely wife
to mercy kill it take its life
as we waved farewell to nev and ute
we thought the man was quite astute
a life at bogie on a farm
a laconic style of rural charm
the next instalment was a procession of lambs
from biggest to smallest dashing for dams
such cute and playful snow white children
it’s quite a flock old nev’s a building
then we came to the farm homestead
work dogs wagging tethered to sheds
at the front gate there’s a dead bloated sheep
the one nev warned us about to go deep
onward we walked into more open space
where grazing occurs at a slow country pace
a hereford watched our brisk passage past
as it chewed on cud made of wet winter grass
at the end of the road there’s a pleasant surprise
a tableland drop off topped by glowering skies
the gap between hills is not very wide
but big enough to see down the hillside
it’s a break in the mountain to a view of great grace
we can see to the plains and expansive green space
to the base of the tableland looking down is a thrill
from our throne like position at the top of the hills
poetography.ink 