Tributary by Steve Leswer - Lancashire Poetry

PUBLISHED: 14:01 20 January 2010 | UPDATED: 16:30 20 February 2013

A poem by Steve Leswer

No tidal wash ever strays this far:

Sun-charred, a confetti of cans

And the inevitable rusting pram

Whose final occupant may well be dead.

Only water could scour this blackened shell,

Salve the bobbing plastic sores

And nurture, through erosion,

Given time.

Then summer days would gleam as slanting sun

Fixes ripple, bubble and reed. Silent hum

Of bovine sweat and the sigh of the grass

As it bows to the gentle-spun leaf.

By chance proud water once did pass this way,

Eased liquid fingers into every pore.

And water glanced but water wouldnt stay

Yet left her trail of salt from shore to shore.

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