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,
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.