The Sunday Poem: Jungle Book part V

V. The Water Beside the River

The sun makes its green-filtered way down past leaves.
Clouds scud when the Waingunga is not high enough.

Rocks grind and grumble current in the depths.
The breeze hackles necks and scatters mosquitoes.

The water at the edges is hidden by lilypads and leaves.
Some are dark brown and others a sickly vibrant green.

Insects skate across the water as if it were glass.
Sketchy ripples slide away from their pockmark feet.

Damp velvet water slides cold and oily against skin.
Feet feel the whispery touches of waterlily roots.

A wild plantain stretches out its sharp triangular leaf.
Where it touches the water it sends out ripples like explorers.