Walter.

 

He was of the fields of lonesome bush

of grass and dock and stubborn rush

the golden birch and hawthorn bush

brown clay and rock and earth.

Bigger than life, that simple mile

that left him such a little while

Big man, big heart, beaming smile

he wore each day from birth.

Tractor, trailer, nut and wheel,

Cattle and chat, tangle and deal,

Apple juice and wide appeal

These were his favourite toys.

Working steady, in yard and shed

By the sweat of brow he won his bread

Mother, family, curls on head,

His treasure trove of joys.

He left his post, his human face,

He left us robbed of his good grace,

and filled us with an empty space

to go to those on High,

His body lies in sacred ground

the mourners scattered all around,

The wings of doves echoed the sound

of Walter's spirit fly.

(dedicated to Walter Moorhead, his life a tribute to nature)