River

No, the title is not a reference to River Song of Doctor Who fame. It's just another water poem. I did say I liked water.

When I lived in Canberra I used to spend quite a lot of time at Molongolo Gorge - it's actually closer to Queanbeyan (which is actually in NSW). If I was having a really bad day I would walk to the Gorge and plonk myself down by the river and feel sorry for myself for a while and generally I'd eventually get lost in the sound of the river throwing itself down on the rocks and forget what I was upset about. (Usually.)

River

Langurously,

she lets down

her hair.

It sparkles and shines in the winter sun.

She runs slender fingers

through its length,

watches it fall

and foam richly down jagged rock,

landing

in frothing confusion,

then escaping.

Invisible hands tease and pull

as the tangled mass

rushes by.

Waiting rocks, suffocated yet entranced,

catch and hurl it onwards.

Sometimes,

a stray tendril is trapped,

and bubbles up in delighted confusion.

Tiny golden fish,

anxious to please,

race through the foam,

fetch their graceful sisters

to help adorn the foaming tresses.

Others leap into the air,

wanting to prove

they are more handsome,

more agile than she.

Indifferent to all

she stretches lazily.

Watching

the rippling

strands,

so far away,

drifting,

slowly,

out of sight.

Copyright, 1990. Cathy Newberry