© 2021 Manfred Vijars

Green canvas bundle on the ground, a coat of morning dew
the bundle shakes, something’s inside – a head comes into view
A long low sigh, intake of breath; a stretch and then he moans.
Covers cast, he sits upright rubs his back and groans.

Now he’s dressed – pulls on his boots facing the eastern gleam.
A little walk. Ablutions done as gold begins to beam.
On his way back he picks some twigs and tinder with a smile.
And reverently he shapes the build – ignites the little pile.

The fire’s lit, and slowly grows; he knows this all takes time.
Adds bigger sticks. The billy’s placed and flaming fingers climb
up around it’s edge – the sizzling stoked by fiery darts.
A measured hand of tea is tossed in as the boiling starts.

He sets the billy down beside the fire to let it steep
then taps it twice with a stick he picked up from the heap.
The tea-leaves settle, he smiles again (yes, patience is the key)
Then dips his mug straight in the can for his first cup of tea.

Hands wrapped ’round his hearty mug and taking in the view
of grassy bank and rippling creek. While savouring his brew
magpies erupt into their song. He strokes his beard of grey
and smiles with satisfaction from the fuel that starts his day.