The view from here VI

Between Shingle Creek and Fruitlands

Cast your mind back to the first time you came this way,

      the road windy, corrugated, dusty,

the surface mostly the colour of yellow clay, cuttings

      stained with the leer of water seeping.

On the left the ever-ascending slopes,

      the Old Man Range, white flecks

in blue gullys near the summit,

      and your young old man wondering when

we’d ever get to Alexandra, your mum complaining

      about ‘the blessed dust’, both of them

cursing the ‘wash-board surface’ and you thinking

      about the number of times she told your father

that ‘it didn’t matter’ when it clearly did. And that

      was the way it always was with them,

it is with you, it is, period. Until, you might say,

      something happens that’s never happened before.

Like love came back and sent hate packing

      never to return, and peace of mind arrived

like a dove from afar, decided to stay, and you

      no longer dreamed of what might have been.

Brian Turner

More poems in ‘The view from here’ series

The view from here — Ian Wedde

Takahe — Bill Manhire 

Cilla, writing — Elizabeth Smither

h e l l o   a n d   g o o d b y e — Michele Leggott 

Breach — Cilla McQueen

In these troubled times — Vincent O'Sullivan

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