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Dusk On the Murray River

A crimson red blanket hangs over the river, shrouding its steep muddy banks.
This is dusk on the Murray River, the Mississippi of this great land.
Fifteen hundred miles of slow-flowing water linking state to state and ocean to mountain.
What secrets do your Cod and Trout hide as they navigate your murky waters?

Night arrives quickly here in Echuca.
Dusk is brief at this place which means meeting of the waters.
Overhead Sulphur Crested Cockatoos gather in their masses, screeching their way into my thoughts as they swoop around me. 
Darkness falls

I want to stay out as late as possible, delaying my return to a budget hotel with a kicked-in door.
My room in the Caledonian hotel is one of the worst places I have ever laid my head.
The grubby stained carpet is as brown as the river.


Unease comes over me as I try to settle on a lumpy bed.
Sleep will not come 
I feel unsafe looking at the kicked-in door.
The sound of the birds fills my head.

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