Throughout the heat of day the mountains slept,
settling their bullock bulk against the town
unmindful of the restless wind that swept
across their backs and through the paddocks' brown.
Beneath the gongbeats of a brassy sun
Unyoked they drowsed; only the massive thews
quivered from the strain of long hauls done,
trembling though a haze of reds and blues.

but with the dusk the long cloud whips uncoil;
the lightning prods with sharp incessant goad
the dusty stretches of the foothills boil
as lumbering giants rise to a giant's load.

They grunt above us , oxen huge and blind;
the town awaits the first hoof's crushing grind.