Neville

Upon the Drift of Wimbleball Lake

Upon the Drift of Wimbleball Lake

 

Looking much like some

misshapen shard of silver blue glass

on a warm summers day

and from a distance, with no visible

signs of a ripple or wave

to give her away, nor to hint at the

length or the depth of her ..

Up close tho’ she lures like a mistress

and acts a little depraved

Just the way that you want her to ..

Yet, here and there, where the blossom

drifts and banks of it pile high ..

That is where, we may once have made

love, neath a near cloudless sky ..

There on the drift of Wimbleball Lake

that jewel of a place, pinned

to the heart of our very own rural Exmoor ..