Beneath King’s Bridge
foam from the cataract
forms intricate patterns.
A weather map on the otherwise glassy surface.
Through the Gorge
lichen adds texture and colour,
dolorite erosion gaining
yet further complexity.
Along the banks
nature’s myriad greens,
now dappled with autumn hue,
a foliage cascade.
Above
tall, elegant white gums
glint in the passing sunshine
and share the sky.
It is a visual feast,
ever changing,
dictated by season and climate.
But this I see today.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem