There is a wonderful walk along the line of the old narrow gauge railwayline to Southwold, where it runs alongside the Blyth estuary. I led a walk for a group of poets there this year, and this was one of the poems that I read on the walk. We had a very enjoyable workshop after lunch, which produced some good writing.
Subtle change at early evening
a sly breeze rides with the tide
rustling through the reed bed
like gossips spreading scandal.
Butter-light softens leaden mud
polishing the foam-flecked edging.
Probing bills quit before the creep
as brackish water reclaims its land.
Slowly rising from wizened willows
a young Marsh Harrier tries a sortie
along the reed lined drainage channel
to tease a Bittern guarding the edge
until the sentry’s bayonet thrusts.
Recalling hunger the Harrier lifts
float-flapping over quivering heads
scattering silence in its it shadow.
On the water meadow’s mist-quilt
taut grey stillness briefly erupts
a Hanser spears a careless Jakie –
double head-jerks a beak-full of legs
then ambles forward like a tired cleric .
Slowly rising water weeps at the bank
where Water Voles once made holes
and foraged gently in the foliage.
Two Suffolk dialect words in this poem:
‘Hanser’ is a Heron, and ‘Jakie’ is a Frog.
