cropped IMG 1293

 

 

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.