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Living in the Aussie Bush
by Susan Greenbank
Creswick, Vic

The weather bureau stated: "Watch for Saturday -it's rated
To be one of the worst days we've ever seen.
With the countryside in drought, we have not a shred of doubt
That the hazard is the worst it's ever been.

"For the temperature, we deem, will be hot- in fact, extreme,
And we're like to see a record-breaking high.
We can hope that we are wrong, but the wind will be so strong
That any fire will literally fly.'

I looked out upon my patch at my garden grown from scratch
And at all my green and beautiful gum trees,
And the thought of how a fire could so devastate the shire
Made me sick at heart and quite weak at the knees.

I had cleaned the gutters out and put water in each spout.
I had raked up all the sticks and leaves and bark.
I had taken in the mats, shoes and boots and balls and bats.
I'd left nothing that could generate a spark.

The suitcase was pre-packed; in the car boot it was stacked
And the car was full of petrol - set to go.
All the children's school reports, photographs of many sorts -
They had all been stowed in safety long ago.

The cavies were inside, in a box - prepared to ride.
The cat - she wore a harness and a lead.
The children were aware of the danger we might share.
They knew that we might have to act with speed.

On the day the north wind roared and the temperature soared,
And we needed to know each and every fact.
The radio was on - 774 and Jon,
And the website filled in details that we lacked.

Every quarter hour I'd sneak out the back to have a peek,
To smell for smoke and mutter a small curse.
The wind - it blew a gale, and it made me turn quite pale
To think how it would make a fire worse.

Through that anxious afternoon we endured such tension. Soon
There were fires raging all across the state,
Though with none of them adjacent - still, we couldn't be complacent.
We needed to remain alert and wait.

So throughout that dreadful night we all listened to the plight
Of communities where luck had passed them by.
There was no sleep for me, not 'til I knew we were free
From the threat of any bushfire drawing nigh.

By the morning it was clear there was nought for us to fear.
The burning fires did not pose a threat.
Though for many 'twas too late - they had suffered their sad fate,
And others must maintain their vigil yet.

So this year we are fine - nothing burnt of me or mine,
But I sorrow for the folk who lost so much.
Fire takes a heavy toll; it chills everybody's soul,
And only time can ease the bushfire's touch.

                       *         *        *

Now it's winter and it's cold. Seems unreal that we were told
That the temp would give the fifty mark a push.
But come summer, like a war, we'll watch out for fires once more.
It's the price of living in the Aussie bush.