Another Walk

It is Saturday afternoon. We're walking along that section of the Linear Park between the St Peters Billabong and the University Footbridge. It is cloudy, hopeful. The trees are tall, or the path is low. Anyway, there's not too much sky.

The river is on our left. It is glossy dark brown and reflects a cliff. A white drain pipe runs down the cliff and disappears into the water, where it becomes a reflection of itself disappearing under the cliff in the opposite direction. A motionless scum floats on the surface of the water. Reeds collapsing at the edge. Orange flowers.

How are your new shoes? They hurt a bit. Do you have a bandaid? Yes, I do.

There is a smell of something. Ducks, the Zoo, sewage. Cyclists pass. Ibis, moorhen. Angry black swans.

Before we reach the Footbridge we drop something into a bin.

At the Art Gallery Coffee Shop the sun comes out. And now we are in. The interior glass superimposes ladies eating coffee and cake over a series of Margaret Prestons. Still lifes. Patterned bowls of Australian flowers. The yellow leaves from the trees in front of the gabled Curator's Lodge drift across the conversation. She loves glass.

We walk back the same way. How is it? Alright now.