Some days we'd lay about the milled plank deck
eyes to the sky
shoulders pinned
deliberating
on the hickory trees
and pillow clouds
and heavenly contrails

the warm caress  
of a mid-summer wind
whispering through the hayfields
coondog at our side
sandhill crane still
feet in the shallows
of the Haldimand pond

a soft trickle coming
from the Pickerel stream
creaks from the woodshed whistle
as the Massey Ferguson
putters her way
up the county line

catharsis in place
(in this ethereal space)
just a garden variety day
...with fire ants
and fowler toads
and golden honey bees

A salute to the heroes
who battle the blaze
of raging infernos
with billowing haze

they drop into combat
in smouldering heat
a ****** forest
holds little retreat

brothers* in arms
who forge the attack
scaling the landscape
with 60 lb packs

down in the valleys
and up through the hills
hectares burning
as time stands still

bombers and copters
descend from the air
as dozers dig trenches
with no time to spare

the enemy rages
and embers rush
the firestorm flames
consume the brush

an evening ignited
in blood orange sky
candling trees
with tinder dry

may we always remember
the fighters of flames
who battle the burn
without any fame

saving families, and cities
wildlife and ward
a charred streaked face
their quiet reward

Chums are settling
in the back room
of the Feast House ~
post and beam
ember dreams
gray fog fingers
and draping fiords
holding patron's gaze

Dandan is nestled
in a fireside chat
(with a song from Jeremy
playing from
the high rafter)
sail east
and greet the dawn
young man,
distant shores
are converging

Old habits
die hard
for the Great Dane ~
whistling tunes
in a somber minor,
baritone sounds and
orchestra strings
rising from a
distant, muted choir

Ruby lips
and finger tips
scour the
cockeyed soiree
the safe house
is old
and rendered,
but well
worth noting

Filling jars
with pickled pears,
the specialist
weeds the
white maggot
and siphons his
favoured grog

"...shackle the outhouse
my mates!
the foreign scrum
is bolting!"

misted lakes on the alpine
washboard roads
and broken reins
quiet streams
under cattle guards
the barbed wire
guides the way