The river, and the grey sky.
White sand, and three, thick horses
A man dressed in clay,
Slogging his feet through the wet earth
By the river.
The smell of rain, and the boat
Anchored, and the trees swayed to one
Side, as if they carried a burden
Too heavy for them.
And you, your small, dark figure
Beside the green by the road,
Walking, bent to one side
Like the trees.
I shall always see you thus,
And me going away from you.
Your small, dark mournful figure
Slowing into the distance, my tall
Body borne away from the
Weeds and the sand.
Leaving you, and the grey sky
Empty, but for the looming fatality
I shall see it thus.
The river and us and three
Brown horses dark against the sky.
© Dorothy Hewett