Up the river

wraiths

wraiths

Mists rise off the rippled skin. A fish leaps and smacks the surface. Smell the river, the green-brown water, the hint of diesel from our boat.

IMG_3499Further up the river’s a mirror. It seems we’re floating in the sky.

IMG_3508Alongside these mirrored lands

IMG_3509These fractal islands

IMG_3514

riverbank1IMG_3511From the scrub, a tntinnabulation of bellbirds; a pelican flaps over like a Pterodactyl.

I recall Judith Beveridge’s poem, River Music: ‘The bird’s song reached us, then it sharded into the river’s cold glass.’

 

 

 

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