DROVING THE ASPHALT PADDOCK

© Dudley C. Pye AM JP

Eyelids a first light flutter,
Body in its foetal stance,
Canine eyes cast around,
On the days initial glance.

Frosted spots on dulling fur,
Like the dusting on a cake,
Dislodged like mini snowballs,
By the dogs head gentle shake!

He doesn't lift his aging head,
While old eyes dimly scan,
Towards his normal resting place,
Rusting Kombi campervan.

A glance towards his master,
Stirring in his canvas swag,
The meeting of each other's eyes,
  Cause the Kelpies tail to wag.

The old blokes hand emerges,
Beckons to his life long mate,
The Kelpie pads toward him,
At a less than rapid rate!

Gently lick the old mans face,
Stubble rough upon his tongue,
Both growing old together,
Their stories left unsung.

They had once been droving,
The long paddocks endless course,
Dog loped behind his master,
In the shadow of the horse!

The road trains overtook them,
Cattle cramped in lowing loads,
Long paddock now is Asphalt,
White lines bisect the roads.

The man then bought the Kombi,
Swag tucked behind him neat,
They drove the Asphalt paddock,
Dog with a window seat!

At times the old man sickens,
Of life now spent in cars,
Then camps beside a creek bed,
Spends a night beneath the stars.

The Kelpie eyes the old man,
Of whom he is so fond,
Heads toward his water plate,
Blue enamel frozen pond.

The man emerges slowly,
Stretching with a yawn,
Strokes the Kelpies greying chin,
Welcomes yet another dawn.

This must be their life now,
The kelpie and the man,
To drove the Asphalt paddock,
In the Kombi campervan.