My River yet again came to my aid,
The pain and frustration of those
Whose lack of respect, and sheer impoliteness
Was calmed, by my walk along the Avon.
Strolling with camera to hand;
A gentle time, with the sights and sounds
That always seem to bring me peace.
At first the many people with holidaying children,
Shouting and laughing, free from work;
Running, skipping, playing with balls in the park,
Getting wet by the water shooting up from the ground,
The laughter increasing, the wetter they get;
Unbounded happiness for me to see.
The many left behind, I walk into quieter streams.
The swans gliding past with no noise at all,
The pigeons floating in the air
As they reach for the skies, or land in the trees;
Their sounds of repeated coos,
A balm to my calming spirit.
At last to the quietest part, where I stop and commune,
With nature and my spirit, my special time.
My river at my side, my God in my mind.
The anger, almost departed.
Then the fast walk back, the frustration paling in every
Breath laden step, at last I am back to the start.
Anger dissipated.
Frustration gone.
My River has done its work once more.
My saving grace going on for ever,
And will do so for far longer
Than I will ever be able walk beside it.