Walking through puddles, rain

soaked ends of trouser legs

that had swum gingerly

across the River Rae bridge,

the once gentle stream of summer’s past,

exhausted, dried out and the deposit

from long since removed factories

whose smoke deposits covered

the roof of our school

in a choking fit that came out in sympathy

with the janitor, puffing away after thirty fags,

this once gentle stream that I played Pooh

sticks in and examined the wild

life of insects copulating, woodlouse

turned over and then feeling guilty,