A view of the ever changing tidescape on the Tamaki, laid out in muddy, shelly, watery strata.
It is my awa(river).
I have lived my entire life within minutes of it.
It calls me to sit with it, to observe its gentle happenings.
There is no sudden jarring event; it has a continuous and relentless rhythm of its own.
If the mudflats at low tide have a certain bleakness to them, they are broken up by a cavalcade of feeding and resting seabirds: gulls, terns, shags, oyster catchers and herons.
The shallows harbour cockles, oysters, crabs, eels, and flounder.
Life teems forth at the awa, but in a subtle way, revealing its many layers in all the time you can spare it…
Charleston, South Carolina April 2017
No, not another Marvel sci-fi box office thriller.
However, the scene is ever so quietly gripping…
A southern river scape :
One mighty, fully laden, container ship, ploughs the shipping channel sea bound and looms large against the horizon.
Meanwhile, unperturbed by the floating behemoth, a group of sizable armour plated horseshoe crabs, prehistoric survivors, make their presence known on the muddy shore.
A contest of heavyweight champions!
I make it an honourable draw…
Walked down to the river shore this afternoon to calm my head.
An ebb tide, about as far out as can be.
Mudflats, shell banks, strewn rocks exposed.
And layered and eroded sandstone, captured in this photo and then subjected to some post-production flight of fancy.
Something bright, molten and fluid resulted.
It brought to mind, and to life, a poem I wrote a while back ( I don’t write many) and posted here: Bond / Flow
This is for those who have ever lost hope.
“When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.”
– Rumi, excerpt from ‘Moving Water’
This morning, by the river, before the sun broke through….