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Started by Gyppo, June 27, 2021, 06:18:25 PM

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Today's fine rain and wind reminded me of Cornwall, and a place etched deep into my memory.



I have four slate fingers on my bookshelves,
reminders of a place called Respryn.
They are smoothed by the water,
washed free from miles upstream,
tumbled downstream in periodic spates,
resting, between roaring brown floods,
which uproot smaller trees,
undercut bank sides and alter geography.

Eddies form in the deeper pools,
where the wild brown trout hide,
hugging the river bed,
hardened survivors of spate conditions
Lying up where the flow is slowed
by tree roots and larger rocks.

And some chuckling shallows,
and curved shingle banks
with pebbles of time-worked granite.
are ripped out, creating new deep pools,
where last year a man could wade safely
in pursuit of his fishy supper.

New gravel banks appear as the spate eases
and the water level falls.
Sometimes small islands,
with shallow tumbling water racing by on each side.
Sometimes a taller construction,
thrown up against a dirt bank,
with a slow wide glide flowing alongside.

On these gravel footings, well irrigated,
seasonal plants grow quickly,
flourishing whilst they can,
before the next spate rips through,
reshaping the river yet again.

And occasionally, bright amongst the dark granite
and glistening wet slate fingers,
oval fragments of old brickwork,
reminders of an ancient demolition,
or a riverside cottage which fell to the seasons.

Bright red when wet, pinky brown when dry,
porous old-school brick worn thin.
textured and shaped like alien cuttlefish bones.