Deva’s Water Music
through the windswept heath and gorse,
we caught a glimpse of an ancient watercourse,
whose rutted channels, exposed on the ebbing tide,
held the sunken bones of dragon ships inside.
There were shattered oars and scattered heads,
resting on the riverbed,
and winged helmets, filled with drifting sands,
that still pined for distant Viking lands.
Stranded further up the estuary shore,
were interred roman galleys equipped for war,
their holds weighed down with vintage wine,
that had turned to vinegar with the passage of time.
Now, where the sea in its exile is nought but silt,
weary salt marshes conduct a benign eerie lilt,
to the humming of the reeds, and the marram grasses’ moans,
Deva’s water music calls the lost mariners home.
(What ever happened to all the Roman and Viking ships that visited the River Dee and the River Mersey?)
By Terry Clarke