Riverine – by Kavita Bedford

… Then, it was as if the river was remembered. In the first month of the pandemic, the golden hour hit the river at six each evening. The skies were honey drenched … As the pandemic stretched over months, time ran tandem to the river. My days were linked to other city dwellers, whose sense of time, once ruled by workplaces, was now punctuated only by river walks. On certain days, the river was like glass, reflecting the sky back to itself. One day, I watched a silver heron perched on a dead tree, bark and bird merging into one bar of light as the sun went down …