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.