Friday 26 January 2007

on this day

The captains name was Arthur.
Leading his ragged fleet along the steamy waterway
was hard going.
As he approached the cove
and elderly native man was waving.
Was he suggesting where best to come ashore?

Arthur was the first to step onto the beach.
The native man seemed excited,
dancing in circles.
Arthur watched and his men laughed.

They were led to up a hill to a large cave
where a fire was burning.
It started to rain.
Everyone sheltered in the cave.
Arthur looked outward toward his fleet
anchored in the distance.

The native man pointed to the cave floor
and spoke in a tounge
no one but he had heard before.
Was he offering the cave as shelter?
It was certainly large enough
and they could at least be dry.
Arthur sensed a trap
and went back to the fleet.
The night aboard was wet and uncomfortable.

Next day the native man
was standing on the beach.
Slithers of smoke sliced the sky
from the trees behind him.
This time he had brought others.
They were all carrying spears.
Arthur took the rowboats ashore.
His men were armed.

The natives began chanting and dancing.
Was it welcoming or warlike?

A failure to connect.
The one thing in common
they all stood on.
More Australian than a pie
or a holden or a blue piece of cloth.