I am in my own thoughts.
The birds take flight as if
The world is about to shatter
With my approach.
Meanwhile the river,
High and brown after days of rain
Reminds me that, come summer,
Or a dry Spring,
It will be clear
And I will walk in her again,
Finding the bottles and crockery
Of a civilisation before my time,
When the river took everything away
And time ahead was infinite.
Green shadows of the evening sun:
Rust sings orange.
Sitting quietly on the bank,
Water singing on the brick foundations of the bridge,
The birds coalesce in the trees around
As if I had been entirely forgotten.