I have just heard that my entry for the competition will be included in the Anthology that will be available before Christmas
The River
Peter Kay
In February you raged,
cut a widening swathe
through watery green fields,
carved intricate patterns in sludge left behind,
unearthed rocks never previously walked upon,
leapt weirs, broiling,
frothing brackish bubbles
that continued onwards, way past the Mill
In April your roar had subsided.
It’s oh so quiet.
By a hidden little beach, a heron stands sentry
as the smooth flow carries you under a now silent bi-pass
to an unpeopled wood,
where Reynard pads with nonchalance,
a limp rabbit in his jaws
and birdsong fills my ears
Above the tree-tops
a blue vapourless sky
ponders green tranquillity below.
No final games of football,
no rolling out of the square,
no woods seeking jacks,
no catgut strings stretching
to collide with flashes of yellow.
Now you are no longer enemy,
have become a cherished confidante.
Daily shared meanderings,
my one dose of freedom.
The new foe is far more deadly
and impossible to see,
keeps us all indoors,
your company my only release.
Oh, how I look forward to
that treasured hour – our time together.
I recognise every inch of you.
Your outline impression clinging close, as I walk downstream.
Slow myself to keep in step.
On my upstream return, it’s as though your flow
passes through me as I hug your curves.
Until tomorrow then, dear friend.