on The Broads

there’s a point here
where the slow sashay of the Yar
confuses

a black-headed gull facing coastward
looks a tad bewildered as it drifts up-stream
on the rising tide

reeds bent by winter’s long breath
rattle dry stems and sigh
as the bird rotates in slow motion
on an eddy formed by the mix
of flow and ebb

a pair of marsh harriers
float along the dykes
making languid broad brushstrokes
across the sky’s canvas

a derelict wind-pump rotor
creaks in the breeze
river mud scents the air

a swirling curlew herd curves into view
before spiralling onto the meadow

three buzzards patrol the heights
higher than the ceaseless larks
the stolid raptors
pierce the afternoon’s calm
with their forlorn cries

~

CLP 23/03/2025