Edged with ragged weeds and sedge,
The river snakes noisily around a bend
Into damp darkness of an ancient bridge,
Slipping like time over mud and sand.
Further down, a fisherman stands in the stream,
Casting for fish in his waders and vest,
Dreaming of a supper of trout or bream
As slate grey clouds weight the sky in the west.
Buckshot hail is released in a spatter
And then brilliant sunshine spreads like butter.
Among stems, invisible reed buntings chatter
And gnats spread like seeds of dandelion heads,
Floating and drifting across the river bed
To the other bank, where rabbits play
In lengthening shadows at the end of the day.
© Kim M. Russell, 2016
Image found on www.wyeuskfoundation.org