Crystal clear water in a mountain soak,
From a forest up in a high plain,
Makes a path flowing through undergrowth,
Meanders through gully and drain…
Little rivulets rush into one focal stream,
To travel o’er rock and the sand,
Flow ‘round the death of a proud forest giant,
Carving a course through the land.
Trees are the maps of this ancient course,
Securing the banks and the edges,
Becoming the homes to millions of lives,
As too do the rushes and sedges,
Rippling rapids are more turbid now,
Still water where corners are deep,
Sand forms a beach where there’s sporadic flow,
At cliff face its instantly steep.
Back waters, flood plains, billabongs,
Will fill with continuous rains.
Death from these floods do litter new banks,
When the forest the river regains,
Before there’s receding to its natural course,
Bartered for millions of years,
Bringing a new look and changing landscape,
For power creates new frontiers.
Reaching the forces of the tidal shore,
Blending with waves from the sea,
A cauldron of undertow merging with rips,
Is the turmoil, which cannot agree.
'Tis when the ocean is calm and serene,
The sun lifts what the ocean will give,
Clouds that grow thicker are once again drawn,
To the mountains, so this old river lives.