She dresses anew

with each spotlight moon.

Maroon, smoke grey

Olay! Spanish ruffles of her foliage

skirt her agéd trunk.

Spritely umbrell’d limbs nod

with the breeze

Seed panicles stare and stomp

Sassy as she dances still.

by Nev Newman

Many weeks have come and gone

Since I closed the boundary gate

And put her in the paddock

To graze with her old mates

Where the grass is lush and green

And the water troughs are full

Where the breezes drift at evening

Through the shimmering white gum trees.

I fondly recall that old grey mare

In the days when she was fit

I’d sit straight in the saddle

And let her have a loose bit.

Or the times while on night watch

When lightning was sure to strike

And set the bullocks to rushing

On a cold and wintry night.

But my droving days are over

They’re just memories of the past

And droving gear hangs on the wall

and my swag shows a little dust.

Sometimes I wander to the rails

And call her to my side

She knows I’ll have some sugar

And I’ll stroke My Girl with pride.

So when it’s time for her to go

To that longyard in the sky

Where the fields are always green

And the rivers never run dry.

She can rest in the evening shadows

And not hear the stockwhip’s crack

Or feel the tightness of the girth

And never feel weight upon her back.

Mudgee Valley Writers: Meet at Club Mudgee, First Floor, Room 2. On the second Tuesday each month at 12pm to 3pm. 

“We encourage members to think of and try fun and creative writing ideas at the meetings.”

For more information please email mvw.nsw@gmail.com Visit mudgeevalleywriters.wordpress.com