Day 93 - 09:12am, 3 April 2019
There is a foamy triangle that forms at the base of a tree, as the river arcs back into one. It is more noticeable when it has rained, but there does not seem to be any definite trigger to it appearing or disappearing, because even on calm days like this, it is there. Were I to ask hubby, I am sure there would be some explanation regarding churn, the volume of water and the speed it is travelling at.
I prefer to imagine though that it is how the river expresses it's emotions. There are days when it feels the flow and on those days the water is crystal clear and merrily dancing on its way. But there are days when the onwards momentum is a struggle and the water is pushed forward against its will, daubbing its white graffiti against the banks in protest, in the vain hope that someone or something will register that it has passed through. Is that not what poetry is?
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