No Name Creek. Poem by Geoffrey Fafard

So we ran in on the tide
Into no name creek
Just to hide for a spell
And talk with Jack in the mangroves
About, you know, the weather
Or the flavour of mullet...
It was late our fuel was low
Might have to stay the night
'Maybe', I replied scratching my head
'Bities here old mate sandflies, big mosquitos'

A breeze had sprung humming
Over the rippling surface
Old mate tapped me on the shoulder
And pointed upstream
On the narrowing water
His voice was calm but pensive
You didn't tell me he lives here
Sheepishly I looked him in the eye
Sorry mate… I forgot...