Thursday, January 19

River Walk

Crunch of gravel underfoot
Dust baked on a river’s track
Yellow tree spray on display
Shimmer in the river’s eddies

The wind brings a haunting rhyme
Resounding chords of a lost dreaming
When sky turned black, when rains came
it washed away the old bush track

Camped by the river, on the plain or in the scrub
Tribes still remember a great flood
As their mother earth rebounds.
Game is plentiful-they dance again
To the tune of the great hunt

Gone now like the first spring floods
Gone the nulla, the sling and the spear
Replaced by the gun
No longer,
No more.


Cartledge said...

Very evocative Lindsay. Good to see you still have it :)

susan said...

A wonderful poem Lindsay. It's sad but true that so much balance has been lost in man's dealings with nature.

Lindsay Byrnes said...

Hi Cart & Susan
Thanks for your interest and welcome back Cart.
Susan – true

gfid said...

"Resounding chords of a lost dreaming" .....this alone speaks volumes.

i have a few lines from a poem you gave me some time ago taped by the lightswitch in my bedroom. It gets my day off to the right start.

(umdedum somethingdum) blue horizons
seasons of a setting sun
memories of life abundant
much more is yet to come

lovely to see another word sculpture from you.

Lindsay Byrnes said...

thanks gfid - best wishes and I trust the best is yet to come !!