A SNOWY MOUNTAIN MORNING
Posted: Sun Jun 30, 2019 3:33 pm
A SNOWY MOUNTAIN MORNING .. Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet
T'was a misty morning up the mountain, somewhat cold and drear,
every sound I heard seemed muffled, save for one that I heard near,
and I thought I was mistaken, even though I heard it clear,
but I looked around and there it was - a dingo.
It was sitting still and watching me through veils of gauzy mist,
and his colour blended in so well he seemed to just exist
like an old and well worn anthill does. His fur was just sun kissed
as old Sol peeked shyly up above the mountains.
His fur was gold like ironbark honey, ears both pricked, alert,
and he made eye contact with me his gaze he'd not avert.
And the presence of a stranger did not even disconcert
him in the least - he was a wild dog , home in country.
Only young, because his muzzle was not yet tinged with the grey,
but with white fur, splashed across his chest, and two front feet in play,
though he was a little ribby, it is only fair to say
he's a young dog in his prime ... a handsome fellow.
And we shared a precious moment and we both shared our respect,
for each other and for country and for living I suspect.
Then he ambled off, I let him go, his journey quite unchecked
through the drifts of yellow wildflowers in the valley.
Then he turned just once to look at me as if to say "Hooray
thank you for taking pictures of me in my home today.
I know you are the brumbies friend - another time, I'll stay
and keep you company when visiting our mountains.''
Then he raised his snout and sang out loud his own warrigal's song,
and it echoed round the mountains and it wasn't very long
before other dingoes replied, their music proud and strong
and it echoed, echoed, echoed through the valley.
And the brumbies on a distant hill where granite boulders lay
raised their heads and turned to listen and responded with a neigh
as their stallion led them higher, a muscled battle scarred grey -
who like the dingo was at home here in his country.
T'was a misty morning up the mountain, somewhat cold and drear,
every sound I heard seemed muffled, save for one that I heard near,
and I thought I was mistaken, even though I heard it clear,
but I looked around and there it was - a dingo.
It was sitting still and watching me through veils of gauzy mist,
and his colour blended in so well he seemed to just exist
like an old and well worn anthill does. His fur was just sun kissed
as old Sol peeked shyly up above the mountains.
His fur was gold like ironbark honey, ears both pricked, alert,
and he made eye contact with me his gaze he'd not avert.
And the presence of a stranger did not even disconcert
him in the least - he was a wild dog , home in country.
Only young, because his muzzle was not yet tinged with the grey,
but with white fur, splashed across his chest, and two front feet in play,
though he was a little ribby, it is only fair to say
he's a young dog in his prime ... a handsome fellow.
And we shared a precious moment and we both shared our respect,
for each other and for country and for living I suspect.
Then he ambled off, I let him go, his journey quite unchecked
through the drifts of yellow wildflowers in the valley.
Then he turned just once to look at me as if to say "Hooray
thank you for taking pictures of me in my home today.
I know you are the brumbies friend - another time, I'll stay
and keep you company when visiting our mountains.''
Then he raised his snout and sang out loud his own warrigal's song,
and it echoed round the mountains and it wasn't very long
before other dingoes replied, their music proud and strong
and it echoed, echoed, echoed through the valley.
And the brumbies on a distant hill where granite boulders lay
raised their heads and turned to listen and responded with a neigh
as their stallion led them higher, a muscled battle scarred grey -
who like the dingo was at home here in his country.
although to be fair this one was prompted by some beautiful dingo photos posted on one of my Brumby sites and as I panned through the photos I wrote to match them and tell the story of the photographs. If interested you can check them out here