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I camped and then walked with my friends Will, Sue and Lily down the Cox's river to the Little river junction.
two rivers braid
the sound of them
like conversation
The Cox's is a shadow of its former self. Will noticed this especially, having walked here frequently as a youth.
missing from the pool
where orange-lipped carp laze -
all the other fish
Haiku cannot wash the current beseiged state of nature in some kind of burnished glow from the past. That would be fake.
the cows pause
at the sound of the gun -
momentarily
Still - we had a wonderful time.
the river burbling
while we sing
about dishwashing
