Meandering Wagga – Jo Wilson-Ridley

Crows are flying, time is dying

Red sky climbing, river winding


Should we forsake the double name?

Debate “Gumly-Gumly” Wagga game


Should we laugh—a wave at five

Should we weep—this town does die


So we keep the deep wide river bends

That straddles families, foes and friends


Once every hundred—floods come yearly now

Drowns the town right down from banks to ground


Debris littered stains marks nature’s wrath

As home-wrecked families cope this aftermath


Next year’s fortunes—paddocks dry and bare

Withered sun soaked crops—for water’s rare


So we crawl those pubs and take that toll

Climb that rock—this life’s no stroll


Rake red soil we toil, than fist pump the hay

Blends city with town like dawn thru to day