Wild Water


Looking up from the crag,

the sky is a smooth, 

unbroken blue,

smooth as clear water.

The storm, almost forgotten,

hardly a memory, 

trickling over moist rocks.


But looking 

down, 

it’s clear that the river 

remembers,

its bright blue ribbon

swirling, 

curling,

stirring up mud,

foaming white

over 

stone,

changing shape

like a living creature

or the ghost 

of one,

shape-shifting 

its way 

to the sea.



https://www.thegreatbritishbookshop.co.uk/search?type=product&options%5Bprefix%5D=last&q=steel+jackdaw

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