WelCom December 2024/January 2025
Night falling
It’s getting late.
In the tow of evening,
eyes accustomed to the dark,
I go looking for the river,
where winter trees shine
their naked glory
on the surface of the water,
and pied stilts and shags
make invisible moves
In the shallows.
Past the swing bridge
and the old weatherboard church,
I go looking in the silences of
the river,
in the velvet gloom.
I go looking for you everywhere,
I always will.
– Michael Fitzsimons
