The motorhomes are home.
One alone, by the river
off the grid, the saviour
but there are probably many.
A fish. Woodsmoke.
Could be you.
Could be Jenny.
The years waited
for the caravan.
Till they didn't
distinguish between
believers & non-believers.
We prayed to the river.
The river, our mother, love this one Rob.
ReplyDeleteCheers Kerri :)
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