Murray Trio

Murray
2016 #1

Welcome.

Welcome
back,

annual
pilgrims.

River
greets,

family
meets,

falls
in

with
river’s rhythm.

Sunrise,

sunset,

kids
mesmerised

by
fire’s glow,

no
screens in sight

 – conversation

brings
delight.

 

Murray
2016 #2

I
won’t be around to see it,

the
day the last fish is caught.

No
one will realise at the time though.

It
will happen,

like
any other catch

and
then,

nothing
will happen.

No
bells will ring

from
pulls on the line,

no
bites to jag,

no
size assessments

to
be made.

And
one day,

someone
will say it,

the
thing that’s on everyone’s mind:

‘Maybe
that was the last fish…?’

Some
will agree.

Some
will not.

Each
with equal conviction,

little
evidence for their case.

When
they go into town

the
same talk will be there:

‘It
couldn’t be the last one!’

‘Why
not!?’

‘There’s
less and less each year.’

‘There’s
too much irrigation.’

‘There’s
too much pollution.’

‘The
mouth’s closed over.’

‘They
die from the mouth up, you know, rivers.’

On
and on it will go – the talk.

But
still no more fish will be caught.

So
we slide hooks out of mouths

as
easy as we can,

hold
them with care,

watch
with hope,

year
after year,

as
the big ones grow bigger,

and
the catfish reappear.

Hoping
it’s enough.

Hoping
that we won’t be around to see it,

the
day they catch the last callop.

 

Murray
2016 #3

The
river is,

low,
slow, and warm,

perfect
for a swim.

Red
gum saplings

reach
over my head this year,

flood
regime’s doing its job.

Upstream,

the
algae blooms,

low,
slow, and warm.

Perfect.

 

©
Palitja Moore, text and image, Easter 2016

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