The Rakaia River in the South Island of New Zealand - The most beautiful braided river on our planet.
LISTENING TO THE RIVER - Brian Turner
Last night the moon rose early
orange and round. This morning
winter's first frost on a bristly lawn,
the red iron walls of the barn
like pin - stripes in the slanting sun.
I would like to be able to say
no one I know has lost out
or failed to find whatever it is
they are looking for. Not so easy.
So I think of so and so, a friend
who is drawn to water
and finds rivers speak to her
in languages she lives to translate
over and over. Their syllables
roll like stones consonants catch
and tip like slivers of rock
flickering in the deeps. They hold
what life and light is theirs but cannot
stop the whittling and the wearing.
There is nothing unusual in this
and when they lie still we know
they are not asleep or dormant
but huddle awaiting what will be
rather than storing memories of things past.
A river is never silent. Even its
deepest pools thrive with dark
or dreamy utterances. They shelter
more than we can say we know.