Comes with the Life
“It’s a pace,” he said,
“Comes with the life”,
As his arm stretched out,
Palm turned upright.
It’s the way things are,
Out on the Swan,
Not much more to add,
Just took half the night
And a decent taste
Of valley wine.
Sunburnt arms and calloused hands implore
Tanned faces stoic reprimand
On row on row of fresh hoes dirt
Of steady trickle irrigate
Bursting in tangled jungle vines
Tractors working down the lines.
“It’s a pace,” he said,
“Comes with the life”.
Pushing back his hat,
Squinting against the light.
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