by MARGARET OWEN RUCKERT
I’m walking the edge of a sleepy river
slapping its sides like a cool bass player
jazz at sunset, songs in the air
horns and wood, winds over water.
Mike’s antique piano smooches and honks
on this river Maroochy, place of the black swan
Friday place of the river boat cruise
nostalgic tourists on their final night fling.
While the sun god slowly sips the horizon
melody swirls in a syncopated mist
this is freedom, a ticket on a love boat
couples as friendly as happy hour drinks.
Suddenly there’s noise, high-decibel madness
trees all squealing with feathers and fights
parrots playing to their captivated crowd
the river-boat rhythm taps their feet.
I search the sunset for another inspiration
as a thousand colours shout their names
a band of blue cloud wraps up the night
while below, a river rocks the sky.