Between Two Bridges

Back then, its waters
snaked through the village,
sparkling clear,
salty reed bed fragrant and tangy;
Swans happy to glide its calmness.

Bull Rushes, tall, noble, towered over
Yarrow and Butterburr,
Bell Heather and Sundew,
Brambles crawled over all, Devil Spit bubbling.

Beneath the ripples, peeping,
the Spiked Watermilfoil
like brown lace, yellow Water Lilies
floated serenely among the Duckweed.

Water Rats, Voles, Fowl, and Fish teemed,
even the King Fisher was glimpsed
enjoying a visit here.

Narrow boats, gaily painted,
noisy with children and dogs;
plied back and forth
in rain, wind and sun,
on and on.

Now, the town creeps
closer to devour the village;
the only visible demarcation,
two bridges, railway, canal…

The village suffocates,
squeezed tight by new housing
for whiz kid commuters,

The canal doesn’t sparkle much these days
its waters are clogged,
foul smelling,
choked by overspill of man.
Soon, the village will disappear
as though it had never been;
my roots choke too …