Churnings

1 March 2017

A steed sculpted from driftwood
casts a shadow, hurdles time, pegasus-like,
to the orchard of childhood, to my father’s click

of tongue, slap of reins on draft-horse rump;
grip of sun-scoured hands
on shafts of plough;
a blade churning loam
into worm-rich furrows:
clefts between lemons, loquats, figs;

the glint of sweat; his off-key whistling; commands
of ‘get a move on’, ‘whoa’.

I sit with this memory,
ache to touch his face,
bridle the timbre of his voice.


Notes:
In response to Timber by Darcey Schouten, Perth Art Gallery until June 13th 2016.

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