golf at clare

for bazz, hen, klingy and maurie

buggy tracks and shoeprints darken chilly fairways

dense valley morning sliced by birdsong

excitement strides to the first tee

on the last putts weary exhilaration

conversation surges but every shot accepts an anzac dawn hush

chattering carts explore thirsty creeks

and admire vines swollen with shiraz

balls freeze towering above the seventh green

like bungee jumpers, scores dive and climb

our girls happily skirt the eighteenth

and birdies and bogeys echo as

golf tales bubble over laughing beers