Crikey, I hadn't heard from the ol' bushy for over a month. Usually we have a letter goin' both ways each month.
Jack does not have a 'street' address. I mail to him c/o various bush pubs and post offices dependant upon his degree of domestication at any one time.
So I spoke with my contact at Bourke Shire Information office, who informed me 'Jack Bourke' had died !!!!!
Now, I got a bit misty. He's a bloody great ol' bloke- 'salt of the earth' is a common expression for dyed in the wool bushys.
As we discussed the situation I began to realise she was NOT talking about 'My' - Jack Bourke. Further investigation revealed he had not 'fallen off 'is perch' as he often puts it. To confirm this a letter arrived the next day.
This letter includes an invitation to attend the Grand Opening of the Back o' Bourke Exhibition Centre during October 09.
So Jack 'n I will get together beside the Darlin' River and 'Chew the fat' a bit. Might watch the Wedgetails soar over Mt Oxley and visit wildflowers in profusion at the Lednapper Area.
Where Eagles - - -
There’s a road that leads to everywhere
across rolling hills and plains,
by red dirt it is painted
even down flat culvert drains.
It stretches to high mountains
where wide winged eagles soar,
then plunges down to valleys
where mighty rivers roar.
I want to fly with eagles
up high on wings like steel
to bank and wheel in solitude,
to know how eagles feel.
Then swoop into a cloudbank
where crystalled waters go,
to stretch once more my pinions,
to know what eagles know.
(c). Rimeriter.
27/2/09.
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