Towpath Poem. (Trent and Mersey Canal, Spring 2007.)
They are changing the colour of the field
across from Rockpits. Blue-cabbed tractor
cutting grass: in the hedge
a cock pheasant is drowned out.
The pleading voices of lambs
are blown this way and that.
Grey heron on the far bank
gets up, but low enough
to almost feather tip
its slow green shadow.
To read the rest of this poem, click here