Beside the Clun 10th March

No bright sun this morning
to paint the tops of the valley houses.
The edges of the view
blurred by the stagnant mist.

Dawn is still recognised by birds,
pheasants defining their territory,
robin, blackbird, thrush
startled by my approach.

The stream flows quickly,
draining the valley
of the night’s rain,
unchanged by the light.

There’s white foam
caught in a whirlpool
at the edge of the stream,
behind drowned roots.

The oxbow separates
the road from the hills.
Hoof-tracks cross the field
blocked by the work of moles.

As the path fades
I follow trails in the dew,
the light-footed maker
long gone.

I walk up to the road,
the sound of water fades
as the stream sinks back
in to its valley.



Bert Molsom retired early to become an apprentice poet, fully understanding apprenticeships last a long time! He has been long-listed for the Bridport Prize, won Poetry on Loan 2016 and his work has been published by Anthropocene, Ink Sweat & Tears, Acumen and The Ekphrastic Review (USA)