At Nanga Mill – a reflection
the distant intersecting slopes of pines
the sun through rows of tall straight trees
and heavy shadows stretching out over the ground
the smell of blooming natives-
delicate bushes of white
walking on logs over flowing water,
and later dipping our feet in – so cold!
a tiny blue wren, and then another
red, muddy roads and dense green trees
the ground’s smell of crushed pine needles
a happy dog, and two boys playing in the cold river water
a man, kayaking past – thrilled to be doing so
water, reflecting trees, holding them in a still embrace,
just as this place has held us for an afternoon.