Season Song

We’ve known now 

the cold to come

and to go.

We’ve known its ferocity 

on hard embankments

and we’ve known the rich silty flats

to give off ordure,

in the renewal of compounds.

Seeing, as we have, love’s angry dogs

attempt to break the leash

when rain lashed handlers

heading for the heath

wanted only to reign in, 
hold back the frothy jabbering.

It’s no wonder our eyes are sore.

But, my love
there are sights for those eyes,

along the chill embankment

where the river throws itself

at the cold sea.  And warms it.