ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

An Unsettling Moment in the Mountains

Was it something I heard? Perhaps just a sense in the air. I will never quite know
Why I tied my old horse to the branch of a tree, and inched my way down to the flow
Of a swift flowing creek, whose waters were fed by the snow on the peaks icy melt,
Guided by nothing secure in my thoughts, but only some vagueness I'd felt.

There was barely a hint from the whispering trees that something was slightly amiss,
And perhaps from the water that raced past the stones with a scrambling bubble and hiss.
I stood on the bank looking straight out ahead with my senses all taut on alert,
And strained for some sign that might give me a clue - in the sky, in the grass, on the dirt.

Perhaps for ten minutes I stood very still, yet nought could I find that was wrong.
A magpie up high on a eucalypt branch swelled out its broad breast in a song.
It wakened me out of my vigilant state, and it seemed perhaps almost to say
"There is nothing wrong here. Relax. All is well. You may easily go on your way."

So I took the bird's cue, and I turned on my heel, and made my way back up the slope.
I returned to my horse, who was feeding on grass, and I gently untied the strong rope.
I mounted his back, touched my boot to his flank, and moved on once more with resolve,
And whatever it was that unsettled me there is a riddle I never will solve.

Stephen Whiteside 16.05.2015

oh dear, now we'll never know.



Are you allowed to say inched your way now, shouldn't it be centimetered your way ? Doesn't sound right does it.

I really liked that Stephen.

After spending a few weeks in the high country a couple of times in the last few years I could visualize the scene you paint. Mind you I have had to imagine the snow melt as I was there in summer although on one occasion there was still a little snow on a couple of distant slopes. But everything else was there the the streams etc. - Yes I could see it all again - Thanks.

Terry

It was a little haunting, Stephen.

I was half expecting something to leap out when you turned on your heel.

Thanks. Yes, I love the mountains, but I also love the idea of writing stories that are never resolved.

Having said that, though, I realise I have snookered myself by saying the riddle will definitely not be resolved - thereby resolving the poem. It would have been much smarter to leave open the possibility that perhaps the riddle MIGHT one day be resolved. Ho hum. Back to the drawing board. Why is writing so HARD?