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Usually, it gurgles along, slow and sluggish. Weeds, debris, and rubbish impede its flow, creating a myriad of obstacles. But water is persistent, its weight and weft considerable. It finds a way beyond such barriers in its relentless, shifting way.

After heavy downpours, the creek rocks and bubbles with a manic energy. The mangroves shimmy as the creek runs past, transporting household refuse like lost balls, takeaway coffee cups and ubiquitous plastic water bottles. On days like this, tadpoles and fish hunker in the shallows, close to the creek’s edge., biding their time until the sense of urgency passes.

On quieter days, nestled amid the reeds are swamp hens and ducks. White ibis delicately pick among the edges of the mangroves, curved bills plucking out something to eat. Dragonflies hang, suspended for a heartbeat, above the still surface of the water. On the boardwalk bridge, a cormorant perches, then slowly extends its wings, water dropping from the tips and back into the creek.

Alongside the creek there are branches with bark speckled with fungi. As insects hum nearby, an eastern water dragon perches on a fallen log, languishing yet watchful. Old weathered rocks jut out along the boardwalk, sandstone edges tempting passers-by to reach out and feel the gritty surface.

The creek’s course has been altered, blocked and redirected as development in the area expanded. Its continued existence in its reduced state offers a glimpse of what it once was, and of the many lifeforms it has sustained.

This was written to a prompt at my local writing group, taken from the “Writing Down the Bones Deck” created by Natalie Goldberg. This brought to mind Buffalo Creek, part of the Field of Mars reserve. You can find out more about it here, and find more photos here.

Photo: Pacific black ducks, Buffalo Creek, Field of Mars Reserve