The River at Henley

 

 

 

 

 

 

Darkness drains down
the slopes of the spinney,
night’s plug was pulled;
Ground-shocked with sun
that shredded clouds to ribbons;
Frost-bound white grass
cracked and seeped
to green again.

The glittering river steams
in the still iron-cold air;
Mist shifts and stirs,
Distant sounds of oars
turning in rowlocks
and the cox call
for the stroke;
Mercury water
slides free from the blade.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First Published in THE MOZZIE, Vol 14, Issue 6, July, 2006.
& Valley Micropress Vol 9, Issue 7 August 2006