Grandfather had stubby tough hands

that fit within green plastic bucket

layered wet manure into cement-square garden beds

forged New South Wales Railroads

and sunny fat plum trees

in his long grey-paling Yagoona yard.

Didn’t talk

while drinking milky tea

fortified by garage copper still

read broadsheet news

at red linoleum tabletop

bunkered in household-kitchen

doled hard-edge

50 cent

to give hairy brown shoulder hug

smelling thick of pipe tobacco.

Horn-rimmed heavy glasses

Bonds tight blue singlet

matching job faded Stubbies,

embodied eastern European desire

to make Australia home

he spoke five languages

while casting State Government lines

taught other immigrants English

practicing their tongues.

Not once conversed with me about labour

hammering metal inside work camp.

After broken dawn sabre charge

across infantry

left light horse shoes fallen

on forest road

flanked

machine-gun torn

Polish grass

of Krojanty field.