10-15-2017, 09:16 AM
What year did you say it is?
I’d heard of the cave at Tunnel Burn,
its swirling waters, and the ferns, ‘cos I
work on a tunnel, six and a half miles
carved up from Deep Cove.
I went caving on my rostered day off,
Sunday, February 14, 1964,
wandered in and poked around,
followed an arm. Each time
it divided, I stayed right, entrance
by ferns and fungi, delicate,
trembling in the moist air
came across a bed of moss
inviting as a velvet couch
and stretched, to rest.
Such dreams!
When I woke up
my torch battery was flat,
my watch had stopped at 4.
I worried I’d be late for work,
and hurried back along the branches.
Met you in the main cave entrance.
You tell me a tour is due,
private viewing only.
Of course I don’t have a ticket.
Since when, did you say?
What year is it now?
A man’s asleep for fifty years
and the bloody Nationals are in again.
I’d heard of the cave at Tunnel Burn,
its swirling waters, and the ferns, ‘cos I
work on a tunnel, six and a half miles
carved up from Deep Cove.
I went caving on my rostered day off,
Sunday, February 14, 1964,
wandered in and poked around,
followed an arm. Each time
it divided, I stayed right, entrance
by ferns and fungi, delicate,
trembling in the moist air
came across a bed of moss
inviting as a velvet couch
and stretched, to rest.
Such dreams!
When I woke up
my torch battery was flat,
my watch had stopped at 4.
I worried I’d be late for work,
and hurried back along the branches.
Met you in the main cave entrance.
You tell me a tour is due,
private viewing only.
Of course I don’t have a ticket.
Since when, did you say?
What year is it now?
A man’s asleep for fifty years
and the bloody Nationals are in again.