Rabbits Lurk In Evening Murk
By L. W. LOWER
BREDBO, Friday.
We have knocked off snowing and started raining.
Gloom sets in on the hills, mist creeps into the Bredbo pub, and afar the trees droop.
Rabbits lurk in their burrows, and stark lie the valleys.
Brush up the town. I am coming back. So is Wep and his missis.
How they shall miss their little lad Lennie!
Sadness shall be their lot!
The publican is about to shout.
I don’t shout – I sing.
I didn’t solve the mystery of the missing golf course in Adaminaby.
Circumstantial evidence implicates a Scotsman seen with a spade looking for a golf ball.
We left the town in tears.
We had to. Everybody else was moving out.
Don’t know whether I should go home. I have lost those fox skins – the whole five bobs’ worth!
I shall cut the back out of Mrs. Wep’s fur on the way back.
She doesn’t know about it yet.
I am saving it up till I get to Darlinghurst. I talk too much.
I would like to use one of your images of Lennie Lower as a mural tribute in Dubbo, his town of birth. I can offer attribution, layouts and site photos if you wish.
Hadn’t seen the poetry before, marvellous, thanks for archiving, regards, Jack
Could you please provide more detail and which image you refer to?