Walking upriver Tuesday afternoon
on a day of high 30s,
the wind and sun behind me.

The usual houses, the usual plants,
the usual sky and flowing water.

And then a flash of something large
flying upriver slightly below me
on the edge of the cliff.
I lose it in the trees.

Suddenly I’m switched on,
and begin speculating what it might be.

A little further up the view opens again,
and there he is, large and dark-backed
with whiter underside,
heading upriver on the north side,
gliding above and over the little jetty
opposite the yacht clubs,
then up onto a perch
in an area of bushland very hard
to access.
There he pauses, looking down at the river.

I keep watching.
He changes spots at one point.

Dorn dorn.
The osprey. 

Likely the very same who used to— 
and maybe still does—perch
on the streetlight of the old bridge
they’re building over,
before flying upriver 
to nest, possibly near Jennalup 
Blackwall Reach.

And sometimes that is enough.