In the Watermeadows

The canal dark summer, foliage deep,
you in your summer dress, perfect.
Yellow flag, iris after iris, cattle
knee-deep in mud. Hills, heavy
with woods, the town
sneaks in through the trees;
you are graceful amongst these buildings,
medieval, property. Swallows plumb
the shadows, the sun sets
behind the cathedral. You linger
like a swan, the river, words,
shadows, a green darkness, untruths.




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