I Saw You By The Clyde Poem by jim hogg

I met him by the riverside,
his Golden Retriever unwinding
amongst the trees and the winterblown grass;
and I was whistling Angels of Ashes -
discordant, in low and sluggish mist
between the deeps of cold grey water
and the saturated wishes written
on faded leaves still holding,
loyal and fast, to a season we've lost.

And we stopped and talked of change
of simple things and companionship,
and I couldn't help but say that we'd lost ours.
We used to walk and he would race
around and across, nose deep into spring,
into ancient commitments and thrill -
like freedom could be -
through nettles and budding foxgloves,
trailing his infectious atmosphere
through all the woods, and all the lochs
and all along the ragged ocean's edge.
And I couldn't help but see him spring
from the foggy blur into a bounding song
an old repeating rhythm
on a riverbank we never shared.

And his eyes were bloodshot from the cold
and he listened as if he lived it
(and he would in time) :
his smile was gentle and honest,
but he was gone before I realised,
through knee-high mist and haggard trees
with that blonde happiness unleashed
like random star trails darting wild,
along another riverside.






(For Don 2002-09)