The stream
Runs rough
Beyond the towers of brick and mortar
A bridge of crumbling red concrete
Incased between the leaves, and rivers stone
I give
My trust
To the leather reins,
The horse that clops the uneasy terrain,
The decaying stones threatening to give way
I pour
My Mind
Into the rivers blue,
As if to feed the salmon,
Gorge the trout.
I slosh
My Eyes
To the rivers shore,
The edge of sludge and scale,
The currents of clay.