The Bush Mantle Piece
A far off glow
The soft whispers of the homely group
Timber crackles and the unmistakable aroma of a
bush camp fire.
Approaching effortlessly on the clear starry night
Whispers cease and introductions commence
Strangers become friends.
The mantle piece of the
bush camp
Flames and embers dance from white hot coals
Producing very little smoke.
A shovel and an axe within easy reach
My counter-parts stories recommence without hesitation
Another round of drinks are ordered.
A pile of fallen snow gum stacked high
Awaiting the next installment on the bush TV
Never the same show, never a repeat, always unique.
The snap of bark as the newest addition is placed atop the glow
Heat radiating out slightly stings my face as the cold beer refreshes my lips
My stubby holder, keeping the chill of the can from my grasp
Rotating slightly to feel the thermos against my calf instead of my knee
Looking upward to the dark violate, breathless sky
With nothing but the silhouettes of the over hanging gums to impair my vision.
The night moves on slowly and effortlessly
The numbers dwindle
Watching the coals disappear slowly.
Knowing that come morning nothing but hot ash will remain
A billy of
water well placed will soon make a fantastic cup
All that’s needed is a few twigs to start it once again.
By Leighton Di Salvia