(header photographs by Harry Waite 1912-2011)

The Myth of the Sacred Brumby






The Bush Walk
The boy and man are walking
On a near hundred year old track
The lunch, the whistle and compass
Passengers in their pack
The frequent stopping boy examines
The man he strides along
Lost in his meandering
He stops to call "come on"
But there's leaves to send on voyages
Down the rain fat creeks
There's stones and twigs and insects
The boy hears not when the man speaks
They struggle on these wayfarers
Of different stride and mind
'Till the man remembers lightning like
That the journey can be the find
So stopping waiting now attuned
'Till his young charge comes to stand
And remembering his own father
He reaches down his hand
And now with pace much tempered
An amble not a run
They stop and share with wind blown hair Limbs warming in the sun
Now at the lookout finally
The boy speaks first man strong
''You can see the whole world from hear dad
Even Woollongong"
Dave Brignall 9th November 1999