The rhythm of our lives is measured by this river.
It’s both a comfort and a concern.
It sounds like the ocean and makes me feel less landlocked.
It roars like thunder and I often awaken wondering if that is rain or the river.
It’s young and active carving it’s way through a lush landscape: This is not “Old Man River”.
It lessens the longing for Australian beaches.
It drags boulders and tumbles rocks along its bed, producing a sound like ice in a blender.
It’s ochre red flow spells disaster – Landslide above!
It’s a spellbinding spectacle with prayer flags fluttering above.
It’s playground for children in the sweltering heat of summer before the rains come.
It’s demonic, claiming the lives of the unwary and unprepared in monsoon floods.
It’s a bathhouse, a laundry, a swimming pool, a water source and an inspiration and a warning.
It’s a constant in our lives and a friend.