Little Figures On The Tow Path Poem by Paul Reed

The Wear washed it's way through Durham as ducks with their ducklings
Were swept over the mini ledges that form crescents in mid flow;
Above the dense, swaying green of the trees the Cathedral peered down on us
Little figures on the tow path, as with figures from long ago;
Getting feet wet in puddles, measuring the gaps between the boardwalk slats,
Feeling the rise of the embankments, testing tired legs;
Spanning bridges, taking a breath, starting again,
Squeezing some peace out of worried days' dregs;
Remembering the last time we were here, circuiting the cloisters,
Taking coffee and biscuits, sitting outside under a tree;
"If your enemy is thirsty give him drink" we heard
And the river ran on to the sea