Words by David C. Woodleigh
Art by Des Ramjee
On a parched nave of the earth; amid bushes,
Thorned and washed of spring, rushes,
From aquifer ponds deep, comes racing,
Melon-sweet water, fresh and bracing,
Down bitten-lip rocks to green cheeks of grass,
The young calf of earth suckles, yet still fast –
Races, rushes in crevices to gullies.
The stream tickles and chuckles through youthful follies.
Now a mountain stream, it eddies and curls,
Deep in places, shallow in others. Waterfalls
Down past silky ferns, platypus play in lips now grown.
Such beauty is inexpressible alone.
By words so chiseled from stone.
Charting its course, with beauty supreme,
The stream runs forth into a river so clean.
Un-muddied, unhurried, the fisherman’s dream.
So wide and so deep
Is the river
One can’t now see the stream.
