Tuesday, 16 April 2013


A little slice of life from my perspective as the Bremer River flows quietly for now between her banks just a hop skip and a jump from my home.  The trees in my garden are alive with birdlife, the neighbours chooks are cackling - no doubt laying their daily offering of gold centred goodness.  A pair of mating butterflies drift by and the scent of my mock orange 
trees (Murraya Paniculata) fills the air, and all is right with the world.


Down by the river the Magpies are calling . 
The river runs languidly by.
On the banks in the sunlight, Grevilleas bloom
 and honey bees bustle and fly.
The blue sky above is scattered with clouds
 like spindrift or white errant sheep.
Stretched on his swag, he lies in cool shade, 
as slowly somnolence creeps.

The bright green of rushes reflects in the water,
 as small ripples ebb to and fro.
Two wild ducks in passing, both paddling softly,
 movement to the water bestow.
A long legged Crane stands in dignified silence 
surveying the scene passing by
whilst a single Black Swan glides with elegant grace,
 perusing the world from his eye.

It's peaceful down here on the banks of the river
 away from the bustle and thrust
of the city.  A nice place to dream just a little
 then return to it if you must.
A slower pace here at this place of repose
 a break from the everyday strife.
A chance to replenish the quietness of soul
 before you continue with life.

We're all busy people, living busy lives.
 All tied up in stressed knots it seems.
Does anyone take the time to be still, 
to appreciate life and to dream?
Attached to lap tops and ringing mobile phones
 by a hidden umbilical cord.
So shallow we feel if uncontactible
 that perhaps we are being ignored.

Take yourself to the river or seashore today
 but please leave  technology at home.
Try to let your soul commune with nature,
 and enjoy your time being alone.
Seek calmness of spirit and sweet solitude, 
listen to natures  gentle song.
The whispering breeze, the trickle of water,
  the notes from the fine feathered throng.

Kookaburras maniacal chuckle and laughter
 echoes through the bush as we speak.
The warbling crescendo of caroling Magpies
 brings delight to all those who seek
to listen to natures choir in the treetops, 
the chirp of the Superb Blue Wren,
and hark, there's a Bellbird, by still waters calling,
 its crystal notes heard through the  glen.

As evening steals in, with the stealthiest steps,
 sunset skies shaded, softly with pink.
The birds go to roost, the air loud with their chatter
 until into silence they sink.
The Fruit Bats depart from their roost up the river,
 a  rhythmic and regular release
of sylph like dark shapes, on wings quite transparent,
 as day fades to evening peace.

Maureen Clifford  ©
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