Half-Caste

Rain dripped from alien pines along that South-East road,
A yellowed paper sogged against the broken gate,
One linesman-crippled gum sheltered our packs.

Down the road, hatless, he came with rain across his face,
Nor bent his back to crouch above the huge dark horse.
Slowly he rode, turned at the broken gate,
And, seeing not the pine, clapped hand to gum,
Broke off a twig, laughed and then drank
The rain drops from the shallow sickle of the leaves.
Then he rose on
---owning the earth.