Matlapanen

Makoros glide swift
On the Thamalakane,
The fishing boys
Cast lines again,
Where the bream lie deep
In the peat brown pool,
By the old bridge
At Matlapanen.

Under gum poles span
Smooth water slides free,
And strong circling eddies snatch
The gnarled trunk
Of a long dead tree,
Past stooped women
Gathering thatch.

The river mist coils
In the searing dawn,
Writhing, ethereal fingers

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poem by Stanley Goodlad Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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