Am I country side?

How wild must a life become

To be respected?

Teased by towering banks

Coursing through the landscapes’ veins

Down tread, stream, turn, wind,

Ride the rapid flow

Run aground in the shallows

Let our troubles go

The new footpath goes

Underneath my rusted steps

Numbering the days

Silt turns sea to soil

Seeds grow where seaweed once rolled

Can trust be rebuilt?

Thistles dominate

Unkempt banks of no man’s land

Good enough for me

Through empty chambers

Echoed thoughts return unfilled

Back the way we came

Driftwood carcasses

Rattled as raging waves roar

Now sigh on the shore

Another failure

Rusting away. Still I try

To keep hope alive

Where the rivers meet

Sedimentary silt and soil

Mingle marshy mire

Spurned by land and sea

Beheaded spit, longshore drift

I cling to the point

Golden fields roll by

Leaving yesterday behind

I can feel time fly

Concrete rivers flow

Nameless and lifeless and known

Only by numbers

Over gates and stiles

Round the bend, another mile

Keep wheels rolling wild

Drift over damp grass

Misty spectres rise at the

Corner of my eye

Colour floods the plain

A slow rolling explosion

How did we get here?

Who will I become

When I am truly myself?

How deep must I dig?

Sleeping on the wing

Canvas flaps and crickets sing

The river’s calling

While rust ridden scythes

Loom over lowering steel skies

The tired meadow sighs

I prick up my ears

Limbs lean holding their brother

Focus on the ups

Treacherous river

Twitch and twist through your trenches

Transitive courses

Your gentle babble

Still echoes through the darkness

Planning my return

Release your desires

Throw them into the deepest

Learn to only be

When I’m in the flow

There is only the river

Everything I know