Ross river

               
          July in blossom. I am rafting
          Along blue ribbon of still Ross,
          Already here ten days running
          The calm is torn with splash of oars.
          Ten days my raft is floating house,
          High grass became the softest bed,
          With morning glow being roused
          I draw the filled up crayfish net.
          White heron flew above the water,
          Around raft bugs keep to run,
          Thick cane to grow by green border
          Is shining under morning sun.
          My way is crossed by little ferry
          Fast going to the other bank
          End soon full baskets with rape cherries
          Are put along the mooring plank.
          Long bridge appeared low standing,
          Old priest from church has walked across
          And having waited for my landing
          Blessed me with little silver cross.
          Soon clear sky began to frown,
          Big drops have fallen on the heads,
          At once the osiers drooped down
          And here it rains dogs and cats.
          Despite the whims of rainy weather
          Became Ross my eternal love
          And I am slowly rafting futher
          Towards remote Boguthlove.
                Ross, 2010