Glint of gumtrees in the dawn,
so million coloured: bush wind-borne
magpie-music, rising, falling;
and voices of the stockmen calling.
Bellowing of cattle: stamping,
impatient of the place of camping:
bark of dogs, and the crack-crack-crack
of stockwhips as we take the track.
Neighing of night-rested mounts...
This is a day that really counts:
a day to ride with a hundred head,
and a roll of canvas - that's my bed.
Shifting Camp
Rex Ingamells
(1)
Poem topics: music, night, wind, head, place, dawn, Valentine's Day, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Shifting Camp poem by Rex Ingamells
Best Poems of Rex Ingamells