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A CLOSE CALL AT KOBBLE CREEK PDF Print E-mail
Monday, 07 February 2011

(re Dayboro Flooding 2011)

by Russell Plunkett

 Rain was bucketing in the hills the creeks were creeping up
Black ants scurried to higher ground like a black ant Melbourne Cup

T’was nothing too unusual they’ve run this race before
But the water seemed to leap a foot with every new downpour.

Kobble Creek . . . No big deal, an average watercourse
Characteristically crystal clear, flows placidly without force
At many a bend a shallow pool would be a mirror to the sky
But the past few days in many ways hints of anger floated by.

Kobble Creek with a cobble floor, a name so aptly earned
Slowly changed to a muddy swirl then to a raging torrent turned
It clawed at everything in sight with scant respect to all
For boundary fences and man’s defences it thrashed them short or tall.

The light of dawn with difficulty peered through the pouring rain
Revealed a sight that turned to fright and a numbness filled my brain
Eight paces away from my front door like a rattling army tank
Was a monster with watery tentacles just about to leap the bank.

It clawed at tons of cobble rock, dislodging them as it eyed
My mud brick cottage eight paces away my haven of joy and pride
It snarled to hear my warning, pointing at the boundary line
That the whole damn creek was his, and the mud brick cottage was mine.

The Monster’s head bobbled like a ball as it thrashed and clawed at the rocky wall
I screamed and ran to the hillside tall “I’ll keep my life, you can have it all”
I watched from the safety of a rise to see if the creature would take my prize
Then sixty-eight paces downstream from my door it leaped the bank threatening me no more.
 
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