One day soon
he'll tell her
it's time to start packing,
and the kids will yell
"Truly?"
and get wildy excited
for no reason,
and the brown kelpie pup
will start dashing about,
tripping up everyone,
and she'll go out to
the vegetable-patch and
pick all the green tomatoes
from the vines,
and notice how the oldest girl
is close to tears
because she was happy
here,
and how the youngest girl
is beaming
because she wasn't.
And the first thing
she will put
on the trailer
will be the bottling-set
she never unpacked from Grovedale,
and when the loaded ute
bumps down the drive
past the blackberry-canes
with their last shrivelled fruit,
she won't even ask why
they're leaving this time,
or where they're heading for –
she'll only remember how,
when they came here
she held out her hand
bright with berries,
the first of the season,
and said:
"Make a wish, Tom, make a wish."
Adding your comment:
Dee
They are faster than Utes *laugh* I wrote this for two friends of mine: Joan and Hugh and they both would know through my poetry what I mean by the underlining message. But you hit the nail on the knob when you asked me your question! 
