by RODNEY WILLIAMS
with echoes of A. B. Paterson
through a gap we spy the river’s last banks
no fertile delta of islets dropped as silt
more golden dunes shifting forever in flux
bands of sand dancing slowly with currents
where this hydro stream spills into salt
before Bass Strait bends up to the Tasman
a mile or so to the left further eastward
I’ve studied signage for a point of release
in full title called Mouth of the Snowy
a landmark known locally just by initials
though billboard photos show it’s shifted
rather like my own heart in this township
on other fortunate days we’ll spot whales
taking their yearly swim northward
to warmer waters with offspring at fin
but I feel as lucky right now as I’ve ever been
strolling through lyrebird bush with my firstborn
his own son’s grin as bright as Spring sunshine
no clatter of hooves on flint down south here
chasing a thoroughbred colt begot by regret
striking sparks beside brumbies over ridges
now home to a power station kilometres north
my father an absence ever onwards since youth
having worked upstream in one big departure
in my mid-teens Mum’s brother drove me east
to cross the New South Wales border at last
stopping here in Marlo to see my old man’s pal
the sallow skin-stink of a drinkin’ smokin’ bloke
my closest whiff for years of a ghost never Dad…
smiling me back from that state line my grandson