EASTBEAT

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River Tavy Blues

Lost our way along the River Tavy,

Not so far from the Tamar

Wandered along a public path,

Under a glade in Bere Ferrers,

Trusted the tide and a withering aside:

'Left my husband for that walk along the Tavy'

Father stood on one edge of the bank

Stepped nimbly and painstakingly

Oer a stile.

Pondered a skull in the fringe of a bridleway,

Two pheasants picked clean by a hawk?

Ominous!

On a cleft overlooking Hamoaze

Cremyll Ferry pinched off another load.

A scruffy farmer let us alone in field,

It were cool as a nit on a leaf,

And the railway cistern was full of turds

Pot read: 15p for runner beans

What is the breaking point for polite folk?

Does God feel the same rage as us?

What is left of good intentions

On the lanes/rail lines along the banks of River Tavy?

John Stiles