In the driest months when the tidal river
is low and the current almost lethargic,
when the waters flow gently over the weir
the Normans built to create a fish pool,
you can see the cut sandstone blocks from which
the sloping dam was made. Near the southern bank
salmon steps were constructed, and a mill-race –
where this winter’s spate has jammed a fallen tree.
On the groyne between the steps and the race
eleven cormorants stand, spreading their wings,
facing down stream. The river hurtles past,
as if the ice caps had begun melting.
The highest tides expunge the weir entirely,
leaving, momentarily, a gleaming,
shifting, swollen calm. One of the cormorants
dives, then another, until they are all
submerged in muffled memories of the sea.
By David Selzer