I’m gazing at the river, ceaselessly flowing.
She entices me, invites me in
Yet teases me with fallen leaves and eddies and whirlpools,
Floating bubbles, coots and moorhens and ducks,
Trying in every way to distract me.
And then there are the corkscrew trees upended,
The drifting clouds, the too perfect symmetrical swan.
If I’m allowed to pass through this beguilement,
I catch a glimpse of fish gliding over jewelled stones,
Diving in and out of roots, at home.

Jenny Senior, Feb 2010

Reflections in the lake at Woodbroke
Stephanie Grant

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