His stance is so regal his mien so proud
a tall dappled grey who stands out from the crowd
he has the genes of grandeur – How could you deny
that the blood of proud forebears is there in his veins
as he stands gazing over his mountain domain.
He’s their king, the protector of all he surveys
and he watches his mares and his foals as they graze.
He may just be a brumby – a feral some say
and they’re laying the blame on his broad back today
of the random destruction that sometimes is seen
though it’s obvious most is from man and machine.
They blame him for rooting up acres of land
when to most it is obvious pigs had a hand,
and they claim he endangers Corroboree frogs –
bold yellow striped creatures who frequent marsh bogs.
He’s a small herd around him, a small group of mares
one of whom is bulging with a baby – theirs.
And she seems somewhat taken with her dappled king
but she too is a grey and so looks more like him.
There’s a stunning roan with them – silvered mane and tail
and a black colt or filly – a snip of a pale
blaze on its nose , wearing a black coat wooly
What a stunner ’twill be when it’s grown up fully.
And they’re whiling away the day, sharing the sun
curious of the visitors – no need to run
for they know them, and know that no harm is intended –
they’re feeling the love from those they have befriended.
All around is peaceful, the hills and sky blue
there is birdsong, and grasses shivering as they do
in the soft alpine breezes that caress the trees
and the branches of snow gums now devoid of leaves.
Such a privilege given – a rare moment shared
No rancour, no anger, no differences aired.
Separate species in harmony sharing the land,
and the view, and the calmness of nature so grand.
There is room there a plenty – for all to be free
a harmonious existence just as it should be.
May it always be so – may no more shots be heard.
Let the slaughter cease now. Admit now that man erred.