A Walk Along Daw End Canal Poem by ANDREW BLAKEMORE

From Longwood I walk past the barges all moored there
Along the canal as I head on my way,
Thus leaving the noise from the traffic behind me
So glad to be part of this wonderful day.
I follow the path as it winds and meanders
I step around puddles that lie on the ground,
While verges are flecked by the dandelion flowers
And bluebells and nettles that grow all around.

The Riddian bridge with its narrow-bricked archway
Looks so picturesque in the soft-pallid light,
While casting its shade on the still and calm water
Beyond it the surface is shining so bright.
I'm lost in a place that all time has forgotten
Yet gone are the cargoes not seen anymore,
So too are the horses that trod the same towpath
While pulling those barges of coal lime and ore.

The hedgerow like snow as the hawthorn's in blossom
The bees and the butterflies make it their home,
So gaily they weave through the bright coloured petals
I watch as they wander and so freely roam.
Beyond lies the country the fields and the meadows
The cattle in pastures that feed on the grass,
I hear the sweet song of the chaffinch who sings to
Enlighten the morning as slowly I pass.

While there in the reed beds the moorhens do linger
Their newly-hatched chicks staying close to their side,
I pause for a moment and then I continue
To gaze at the swifts who majestically glide.
As high up above through the air they are soaring
A sign that the springtime is now truly here,
And warming my heart for a scene of such beauty
The land and the water and skies that are clear.

The eye of the heron that peers from the bushes
With motionless stare he does patiently wait,
For ready to strike at the fish that swim near him
He shows all the skills of the hunter innate.
While fixed in the shadows to merge with the darkness
His plumage does blend with the light and the shade,
There hidden from view till he moves to the open
As then through the shallows he slowly does wade.

I head to the 'Boathouse' the end of my journey
And stop for a drink as I rest by the wall,
I watch as two geese with their goslings are passing
And hear their soft voices as gently they call.
I gaze at the bank that lies over the water
So wild and untamed there the gorse bushes grow,
And cling to the land that does lie there before me
With flowers of gold in the sunlight aglow.