BRENDAN RYAN

Winter Drift

1.
the creek swirls
with northern floodwaters
scrubbing tussock stump banks
the debris of other lives
passes beneath an old wood
bridge; fence palings, branches
plastic containers and a
weekend of cowshit!
earth that has given in coagulates with foam
around fallen trees

at uncertain levels
water inches into paddocks
meeting drains swollen by rainbursts
that have cut roads
and sent milk tankers
the long way round
this year's inland sea
larger than before
confines cattle to huddled stares
from a ridge smeared with hay

through splintered wood
I watch the creek eddy
closer and closer, rising
by the hour over banks
I stabbed eels on
swimming holes we bombed -
between milking. the day trembles
with the steam of fresh rain
light shifts into a patch of eucalypts
rooted in marsh

2.
night sways with the balance of football post-mortems
casting local heroes
adrift in a crowded bar.
ten goals in the mud - and the gate-keeper forgets
his numb fingers as a farmer forgets his cows,
arguments are washed with beer
as smiles stretch inside
weather beaten faces
listening to radio detail
a town breathing calm

rain pocks a drifting brown sheet
submerging acres of autumn clover
we move to high ground
working tools, a producing herd
leaving ragged fence lines
to winter's hold