Poem: Cool

Cool

He held a pose,

akubra against

the morning sky

shading his red wrinkled

face and neck.

Khaki overalls

stiff from working

in dirt and sweat

creased around

his stout trunk and stubby legs

while his hands

were planted in the pockets

as firmly as his

battered boots were rooted

to the ground.

Ten minutes to the ute

then ten minutes to home,

wife and phone

and another half-hour

to the town,

then a further

eighty miles

to the nearest hospital.

There on this ridge

he found there was no better time

to stay still,

scan the land

and work out what chores

had to be done by the close of day

while waiting

for the brown snake nudging

his boots to slither away.

Peter Groves lives in Sydney. A former federal public servant, poetry has been a lifelong interest that has led to long-term participation in various writing groups, such as the WEA Writers Group, and currently his membership of the very active and encouraging Pennant Hills Poetry Group.

Readers’ original and unpublished poems of up to 40 lines can be emailed, with postal address, to [email protected]. Submissions should be in the body of the email, not as attachments. A poetry book will be awarded to each accepted contributor.

Photo: Gaye Launder / CC by 2.0