Of the High Country
 

The mist descends
o'er a silvery moon
silence strangles
heavy hearted gloom

 

A soft wind dances through Bluey's mane
seems to whisper "You're home again"
They trot on past the Snow Gum's stare
all nature hears, but has not a care
 

Bluey nickers as they ford a stream
crisp cool waters make his fetlocks keen
high in the saddle breathes she mountain mist
tingles her lips like she's just been kissed.
 

Enticing, invigorating both woman and beast
though it be cold, they don't mind the least
Fog now lifts come the crack of dawn
a golden haze heralds early morn
 

Accompanied by first choral chirps
crows caw like typical twerps
the Brumbies stir as they tred the sod
Bluey nickers softly, n gives the nod
 

All nature is at perfect peace
upon the earth of God's great lease
"Hey up Bluey," he slows to a stop
she dismounts slowly to check the lot
 

Sun's up now, she stretches with a yawn
whispers "Good boy Bluey, weve made it by dawn"
It's good to be home far above the sea
amid the wonders, OF THE HIGH COUNTRY!
 

Ch'erie de Perrot
Copyright 7/5/2007
All Rights Reserved