a cormorant goes fishing
silver splash
of fish in her beak
the water a still arc
buzz of dragonflies
then
silent as a snake
it’s periscope up and
periscope down
traversing
sky air water mud
kookaburras gather
for their daily laugh
on the banks of the Einasleigh
how we bare ourselves
into the sweetness
of sand mud and time
it’s birds again and yet again
our ears ringing with
possibilities of laughter
and sorrow
tongues
unforked for renewal
muscles unwound
ready for life’s next pounce
day 1
woman 1:
the river is a necklace of pools
it grapples its way through the land
like a badly executed parting of hair
woman 2:
three years we camp in the same place
the landscape is rearranged
Devonian rocks abrupt against sand
our inner landscapes are changed too
that first year grief-filled for our dog
on the other side of the river
a black spirit dog arrives
sniffing the Styx
she stands
looks our direction
wades in, drinks and leaves
when my tears—
a bee leaves its sting
in my finger
woman 1:
that first year
we watch the other side of the river
longing for the space to be filled
but spirit dog is gone too
ants devour an old bird carcass
a kite contemplates prey from a leafless branch
the kite swoops the carcass
late in the day a wind drift of butterflies
echolalic laughter of kookaburras
in the melaleuca
its paperbark ruffled
as a frilled ballgown
woman 2:
sorrow lifts in the second year
with you four-legged friend
dog-paddling across the river
your tail a rudder
your mouth a wide smile
dog:
last year I showed you
my puppy swimming style
you held me in your arms
woman 1:
we raced across the river
me with a head start
you catching up
wriggling slippery as a seal
woman 2:
this year
no water where previously we had swum
in easy nakedness
thunderclouds gather
on the horizon
Susan Hawthorne, poem extract from Limen, a verse novella, © 2013
Note
In the Australian summer of 2007, my partner and I went camping. We had not long lost our dog, River. It was a sad time, but the following year we were joined by a new dog, Freya who has a speaking part in many of the poems. The Australian bush is a wonderful place and for many days we saw no sign of people. Later in the trip, we became stranded by rising floodwaters and so spent more days than we had intended. This sequence of poems is just the beginning. Solitude, communing with wildlife, trees, rocks and rivers is my idea of happiness.