foto©robcullen14092020

Handing it on from one to another.

…

On the old road above Danyderi,

Martins and Swallows are in the air,

Families taking their fill I suppose.

And on the sagging telephone wires,

groups sit in lines gossiping

in excitement maybe

before the long flight south.

…

But I feel the warmth

of an earlier Autumn sun,

and in remembering my father,

edged with age and sadness.

…

I remember another man

who could wield

a long handled spade,

like his father had done before him.

…

but some things are never handed down,

the knack or skill of driving

the clean worn steel of the spade,

through the earth without a sound

…

and in one easy unbroken move,

heft the sod on its back.

so that winters frost and driven rain