For John and Marilyn
and his sisters. In the cold winters,
out to the local school, through sleet
Moving later to Dunedin, he
the Otago coast. I would visit him with my
on his daily routine. And as I remember
were kept live to prevent his herd
I got a shock climbing the posts.
helped me then. Later, walking back to the farm-
butchered, strung up on hooks
My sister and I would visit the aviary a lot,
chicks, usually they would chirp,
not to harm them, I never stayed
instead to leave them there untouched,
and then, after, West Melton. Once I came
out to the farm, and I helped him
his herd, his hands rough and callused from
in the shed, while I sat watching spiders descend
on God and poetry. I talked to him then
and he talked to me about the Lord of creation.
Otago way, a freak, wasn't he?' Years later,
of love to arrive, words to remind me
and always in the light of a farmhouse,
moving amidst his herd, calling
and me from harm, making sure we shall not want,
|© Copyright 2003 Mark Pirie & Trout.
|This issue of Trout is sponsored in part by UNESCO.