poem: Interned, but……

Interned, but…….

Interned at Royal Melbourne, hours were long

And pay was meagre.  Doctors young and keen

Were learning more than years of study gave us.

But specialist training such a bore; I knew

Of many other fish to fry.  With friends

I hiked the Bogong High Plains, gasped in wonder.

Old forests stole my heart; clearfelling seemed

A hideous crime, despoiling all that beauty.

Then Ranger Mine Report appeared; a call

To arms against the loathsome metal, mines

Of death and nuclear sickness, human greed,

Stupidity, duplicity.  We had

No federal leaders wise or green or decent,

So I joined the movement, met good Doctor Joe

And felt the buzz of fighting justly, all

For one and one for all.  So much more fun

Than years more study.  Built a hut of mud

And sweat with three old friends in them thar hills.

And found Marcel; was French and gay and sympa;

Became firm friends for years and years and still

In touch, though home for him is way across

The seas.  Through him I met my first

Wife Prue.  She deftly waited tables front of house

In Marcel’s restaurant.  It paid the bills

For Prue to be an artist.  He became

An artist too in self-taught years to come.

Rod in MAUM gear

Marcel Sejour

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