On The Banks Of Maribyrnong Poem by Padma Devkota

The air is fresh and green.
Between the trees
silence sounds a perfect melody;
the river's voiceless ripples gently tease
the eyes with forms
that are set in motion like some untold joy
mirrored in your spirit,
you know not why.

You watch the current's glossy green and know
you've watched and loved this silent flow
in tune with the warbles,
bells and twitters
that invite strollers and baby sitters
to these banks and lift their spirits up so high
they feel the angels wings brush by.

All flow is not just a flow
though the sea must be
the dissolving point of each.
Though bound to the banks,
the river is free to choose its course
through belief, disbelief,
science or philosophy,
through joys or grief.

Whene'er my heart is lost,
I know the thief.