Saturday, 15 July 2017


Someone said you were 
Well dressed.

I tried to see it in you.
I gazed down into your depth,
Your mossy brickwork,
Your echoing hollow of plipping dark.

I hauled up your pail, hand over hand,
Thirsty for a drink.

I made eye contact with myself 
In your lichen circled mirror,
Coins thrown, making wishes.

I whispered a blessing
Over chaplets of daisy and cinquefoil,
Withering woodruff woven
Sticky Willy,

You had spelled your own name
In stitches of myosotis,
Instead of the local saint's.

Chlorophyll clouds dried
On boards of salt and clay,
Straws strewn on water,

"Don't fall in!"
A dove flustered out of the copse
A startled naiad
I grabbed your rail,
Recovering my balance,
Blinded by your shimmer,
Newly baptised,
Baby fresh

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