The Sok tugs my raft
Into the quiet heat of day.

Past rubber trees:
Their stifle-shaded
Columned rooms.

River, feet deep
Now rises to a shallow bank.
Pebbles clatter.
Grind beneath the hull.

In a mangrove tree,
The yellow and black
Of a banded snake.

Far away,
Where limestone cliffs 
Start abruptly from the jungle floor,
Baboons begin
Gentle, whooping calls.

(c) Steven Collicoat May 2005