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.
hold back the frothy jabbering.
It’s no wonder our eyes are sore.
But, my love
there are sights for those eyes,
there are sights for those eyes,
along the chill embankment
where the river throws itself
at the cold sea. And warms it.
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