Melbourne 1965

Melbourne 1965

Windswept streets, swirling discarded food wrappers,
Where feet once trod, until the noonday.
Saturday afternoon in the once bustling city
With boulevards, built wide enough to turn oxen
And trams, empty of passengers rumble along.
The sleeping dog lies, fitful in its dreams of past glory
Roads named after all but forgotten explorers.
The hot wind brings the dust off the desert
Later will turn to chill as it blows from the South.

Fires rage bright, devouring gum covered mountains
Where homes are at risk of the impending inferno.
Volunteer fireman, exhausted, soot blackened faces
Fight the flames with inadequate equipment.
Fanned by high winds smouldering leaves ignite trees
Overhead with the sound of a gun going off.
Homeowners with wet sacks and short garden hoses
Risk life and limb for the sake of their treasures
And pray for the chill wind that blows from the South.

Wailing klaxons cut the sound of joyous happy laughter
Sharks chasing fish out of sight of the bathers.
Children build castles knocked down by their brothers
Their parents close by have to play referee.
While sparkling waves lap the sands round the bay
On the back beach the surfers are riding the rollers.
They are waiting for the big one, the one
That will carry them home, back to shore.
They hope the chill wind will not blow from the South.