She is Sabrina, wending through Worcester,
gestures: splashes rock
in moonlight on windborne scents
of cow parsley and whispering waters,
her shadow caught by the clan.
Paths millions of years old
age around smooth muds
trodden by man.
She snakes through four counties,
visits the fairest cities,
leaves her sister to landscape
purple hills and golden valleys,
but she never strays far
from the haunts of men.
All this we know as we hear of rivers
swooping and dancing, see eyes close
romancing and glancing at words
to celebrate the place in which we stay.
It’s midsummer – midsummer eve.
Polly Stretton © 2015
I’m a little late posting this as it was written to celebrate the River Severn on Midsummer Eve. Nevertheless, I thought I’d share it, even if four days late 😄
River Severn—Worcester UK
Five past six, light, bright evening,
across the wrinkled river, close to town;
currents cross, eddies eddy and sunlit shadows
cast under the bridge arc, dipple dapple
Busy bridge shades, silhouettes,
lorries, buses, cars, infected insects
see workers return. Swans call canoeists,
fish chobble chunky bread; cygnets devour.
Ripples swirl and shine on flashy scales,
silver fishy swishy tails. Crickets bat
leg-to-leg whispers in sun-warm scents.
Slicks of green and purple
Twilight stealths in dusky summer shifts.
The torpid timeless river, close to town.
Polly Stretton © 2017
This version of a poem written in 2012 was updated for my writers’ circle prompt Across the River and was also my Open Link Night post for dVerse with Joe Hesch pulling drafts and tipping bottles. Now, a version appears in the second edition of Girl’s Got Rhythm.