He wasn’t that old,
I wonder what took him out?
Last time I saw him
with his dogs in the ute
and a couple of dried
kangaroo legs in the tray,
“Keeps ‘em happy,” he said,
we’d been in the paddock
where the bulls are kept.
“Saw you moving fast.”
His drawl and lopsided smile.
“The bracken’s a bugger to get through.”
He kept his dogs working
or tied to a chain
and locked gates behind him
like he locked his thoughts
to country ways, taciturn, oblique.
Guess the dogs’ll miss him too.
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