Wednesday, 8 July 2020

and ran - i did

and ran - i did

first i collected the tadpoles
from the well across the fields
then i tickled sticklebacks
from the little pluck dicing stones
roach came next enticed with dough
under a float upon the pluck
then running the flashing brook trout
with worms where the water weeds flow
meandering slow past llansamlet church
where grandpa is buried low

then of course the coarse fish pike and perch
in the tennant canal reeded blind
by the docks where the sea fish flow
hooking pouting and whiting and flatties
on the west pier where the night rats know
that the moon stones will be awash at full tide
when the dock lights shiver - you know
and a fist of rag worm wrapped in sand and cloth 
holds every boy‘s long hope upon the bay


i’ve caught them all in my time
when as a child i caught time itself
running with the hares and kestrels
flying across the shivery-shakes 
and heather’s dusty flowers
     and lizards 
          and frogs 
               and toads
and bank voles in the mounds of grass
and water voles with streaming their Vs
down from heol las

never ever did i think 
that this 
one day 
would be just a dream 


i seem to have run out of bait my son
although i am running closer to my soil
where the sun is warm under grasses tall
and the breeze - well it’s just that breeze
that dried blood on bloody knees 
sleeping under the long sky
as deep as a big fishes lair

over the weir time has rock dashed
and the sun is setting in red sails fair
across an ocean with no destination
i am sailing there - with there there now
for yes   oh yes
i am sailing there and there

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