UNTITLED
Like Nature itself
I’ve always made clutter.
We accumulate things
If a hand is not there
To harvest, to find;
Even lessons of life’s experience
Sometimes need pruning from the mind.
I used to start work
With the newly risen sun;
I worked with Will,
Half-bushman they said
With eyes that could see things
Like knowing the time of day
Animals had passed that way.
As for me, it took so long to understand
Which plants were weeds in that Southern land.There’s a greater joy still
When a new lamb is born
Staggering up on its new found feet
Finding its way to its mother’s side
And drinking deep.
But sometimes there’s sadness
When faced with still birth.
It’s a burden to take off the lamb,
But the gladness is there
When the mother is saved.
But I found it easier to sit with the cream.
In a bowl with a clean cloth over my knees
With no generator on that first farm
I beat it by hand instead of machine;
After clearing away my kitchen clutter,
I could dream my dreams while making the butter.
(c) C Y