North Esk River

Is that love on the tip of the tongue
of the river, never too wounded to care
for the wounded, singing the single-flowered
clubrush to sleep like a prodigal daughter
returned from the deep, raising
the black-hearted ravens
as though they were kith,
having a fling, now and then,
with an agate or freshwater fish –
is that love on the tip of the tongue
of the river or am I imagining things?

@Lindsay Macgregor