As I drive down the hill towards town,
The river attracts my attention.
No matter the conglomeration of thoughts,
Mercantile or familial,
Their colour or mood, filling my mind,
The slow pace of the water,
The harmonising rhythm of the overhanging willows, seduces my eyes.
I am drawn to dreaming of boating down its course
And picnicking on the sandbar on a curving bend.
We are now parallel and I am rising to a panoramic view.
Ahead in the distance there is a fisherman in waders
He is in the water, close to the bank.
Closer inspection as we approach reveals,
The same stick,
Whose image has tricked my brain tens of times.
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