Up The Creek No Paddle. Poem by Geoffrey Fafard

There were three of us in the boat
We were up the creek
We had no paddles
The mangroves were a good way off
designed with toughness and bite
There was a great mudflat in front
Vastly open and visible
The water was dangerous
Full of you know what
Then they came flying over
Single line formation
Low and fast
from out of the deep north
Like they had yesterday
But yesterday they flew on
-
Today they spotted us
One broke formation
Banking to the left
What to do, what to do
Into the river onto the mud
Apart or together?
I held my breath deeply
As cold water kissed my face
And salty seep crept gurgling
Into me.