Landlocked but a lover of the sea,

of water,

the once poisoned River Rae

a playground of exploration

in the shadow of broken timber buildings

demolished as my father left Selly Park

as a young man to find life in uniform

but who came back in time

so I could find the love

of the Rae, the Mersey, The Thames,

The Avon, The Solent, the beautiful

Channel dripping wet

crashing against the rocks of Petit Bot,

smashing against the young body

of a boy raised on stories of Niagara Falls,

who spent an entire day, breathing

mist and who was so entranced

by the majesty, missed the bus

to Hamilton,

missed the journey North,

and then spent a cold November night

watching the ice flows

tumble in the dark,

which reminded him

of playing Pooh Sticks

from a bridge over the River Rae.

 

Ian D. Hall 2015