The creek draws me back
To its tired, scarred banks,
Weaving parched landscape,
Sometimes just a dry gully,
But more than a creek to me,
Trickling toward a future
Of restoration, reinvigorated
Riparian habitat, home
For birds, insects, fish, snakes,
Once a platypus, long ago
In my childhood, now
Just a silted memory,
Filled with old car bodies,
Shopping trolleys, Sunday
Mornings in contemplation,
An artist’s pen hovering
Over the page like a dragonfly,
Capturing sunlight reflected
On tiny wings, dappled shade,
The essence of the creek
That was my home.


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