Late Summer Fires by Les Murray

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	Late Summer Fires by Les Murray
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Les Murray

(17 October 1938)

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Late Summer Fires

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The paddocks shave black
with a foam of smoke that stays,
welling out of red-black wounds.

In the white of a drought
this happens. The hardcourt game.
Logs that fume are mostly cattle,

inverted, stubby. Tree stumps are kilns.
Walloped, wiped, hand-pumped,
even this day rolls over, slowly.

At dusk, a family drives sheep
out through the yellow
of the Aboriginal flag.

Les Murray

Submitted Date

Monday, January 13, 2003

Read poems about / on: family, tree, red, summer

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Comments about this poem (Late Summer Fires by Les Murray )

Peter Stavropoulos (7/2/2007 4:07:00 AM)

Imagery rich in atmosphere and statement.

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