The Shearer's Song

In the dawn's early light, where the gum trees stand tall,

Lives a man of the land, the shearer, proud with gall.

His shears in hand, and his heart tied to the flock,

He works in the shed, against the ticking clock.

His world is the rhythm of shears and the wool,

In the heat of the shed, where the air is full.

With every fleece shorn, with skill and with care,

He crafts his life's story, a tale raw and bare.

His hands, rough and worn, tell of toil and sweat,

Of days in the shed, he'll never forget.

The hum of the shears, the sheep's bleat and shuffle,

Compose the shearer's tune, in an endless scuffle.

Yet, in his eyes, a glimmer of pride,

For each bale of wool, a journey worldwide.

He's more than a shearer, in the vast outback land,

He's a keeper of stories, where sheep and dreams stand.

As the sun sets low, and the day draws to close,

His heart beats in tune with the life he chose.

In the quiet of the evening, and stars shining bright,

The shearer's story whispers into the night.

In this world of wool, where time ebbs and flows,

The shearer stands resilient, amid joys and woes.

His life, a testament to the land's enduring call,

An endearing tale of the shearer, the hero of all.

© Peter Pickering 2024 www.peterpickering.com