The pretentious prattlings of a piss poor poet
Slow silent flows the river
Past willow, rush and grass
Mountain born
Snow fed
Aged now
Silt laden
Meandering, turgid
Giving of its being
As it passes
Heading onwards
Towards an ancient mixing
With wide Atlantic
06/09/2000
Leave a CommentWinter sunrise
Salmon vapoured clouds
In beryl sky swim
Geese flying
In playful arrowed form
Pass over me
My footfall
On iced grass remains
A lonely path
By still steaming river
Days early silence
As life from darkened sleep arises
Assails a brooding reverie
And returns me whole
To my humanity
26/11/2009
Leave a CommentThrough the chill mist comes the honk of lonely goose
From an island over in the stream
Somewhere out of view
In the grey light of early day
In the field cattle stand
Lowing, guiding the days bright entrance
Chewing cud and grass
Viewing world with watchful eye
From nowhere the wheezing whoosh of wings
Tells us of swans arising
On tall columns of milk frothed air
Ahead on dewy bank
A heron statued stands
A grey sentry to our approach
Along path
Sided sometimes by sloes
In their season
Distant comes the whispering
Watery sound of weir
And mill and stream
And the church bell tolling
This hour of dawn
At the gate in the corner we turn
And homeward head
To a world more frantic
Than this timeless place
22/04/1998
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