RETIRED FARMER

New Zealand Listener, Volume 31, Issue 801, 26 November 1954, Page 14

RETIRED FARMER

\iITH days friable through his hands In the back garden of retirement, Does he know that it is absence? The land An afternoon off, resting in its heart, Gently reminding a contrast with walking _The asphalt to bowls, to their bubble Of welcome. "Hello, Walter. The competitions. . ." Yes; the competition. Those nagging cars, dust Clouds leading to time and town. Leading to ledgers, cost of the Chev, Of clearing by contract, schooling the boys, Working the farm with one lad. Yet It has not ceased. Except now, not worries But annoyance, with nothing of comfort beneath, Except this-the third thought today Of the cow-track defining the hill. How the concrete ended, clay Oozed up round the gumboot edges, still Waiting the toes of the boy within to part, Squeezing between. To be cleansed in the clear River water. Well; that he had done. Gone like a tourist to visit the snow, Found trout high up and the source Such a trickle. Wasn’t much You could say of it to machinery agent Or man who delivered the paper and meat. Even the men in the club, masked Behind taxes and sport. Who to shout it to? God is love, is my farm and the next farm Over the ridge, is the one day in drought That it teemed, is the willing kids staggering Along with the cans the interest would carry, Is the sweep of Ohope for a year’s watchful saving, Is the growth of the hope that we'll sell out in time. Would be saying again: My farm goes from here to the river.

Robert

Chapman