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GRAND FINAL WEEKEND, a poem by Lee Emmett, Australia
Football Poems & Spring Poetry
Lee Emmett, Australia
GRAND FINAL WEEKEND
Windscreen wipers whizzing we speed along the highway away from Ararat, a provincial city at the foot of the prostrate mountainrange called the 'sleeping princess'. Low lying clouds hover near her headwhere spring rains bring some relief to farmers whose endurance is sorely tested after one of the longest droughts have almost emptied lakes and tributaries in the Grampians. Foothills are alive with new grass shootsand canola crops sit like a golden mantle around the royal guardian of this place. Not knowing if the harsh sleet of the weekend will return, tiny lambs frolic at their mothers’ sides. A solitary wedgetail eagle soars above us;master of the airy element it watches its opportunity,the possibility of a fresh and tasty meal. At the farm we left the palest pink blossoms and tender green leaves on an apple tree breaking out from winter’s grey branches. Yesterday’s blustering winds and rains saw Australians in pubs and clubs, home and abroad all cheer our finest young men taking screamers, and kicking their way into history books.Signs in shop windows, and streamers in front yards encourage the boys: ‘Go Cats!’Blue and white confetti swirls like snow around the victors as they seize the silver cup after forty-four years’ of team effort. Joyously we celebrate Geelong’s triumph in the national football grand final.Today champagne and beer still flowslike nectar throughout the landand fire runs in our veins.
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