The River Freshney At Sunset Poem by Marcus Czarnecki

Clovers, tall and frolicsome
Dancing lazily in the breeze by the path
Border to the gently flowing summer river.
Serenely passing the gate to my home.
Sentinels to her journey through the town.

This unending mirrored ripple.
Alive with natures expansion in marvellous delight
Ancient and calm,
She wanders back to her home - the northern sea.

Young yew and ash in lush leaf waves,
Vibrantly green on the yonder bank
Fluttering happily in rhythm
With the symphonies of the musical birds.

Their leaves cast reflections and memories and shadows
Dappling the buoyant sparkling river
Imposed over rouge crystal pools of twilights light
Fluttering there.

Clear pools - encrusted with weed on the sandy bottom
Like priceless emeralds embedded in Grimsby's living crown.
So alive with myriad river fish,
Sparkling shots of brilliant silver
Darting - unified motes of mercurial glitter
New born shoals - nursed within the shoreline's weeds.
And the great Pike in stealth. Observing all.
Motionless, hungry. Cunning.
Panther of the stream.
A mouth with fins. An eating machine!

Thirteen chirping daring duckling yesterday
Four less today
The pike have taken their downy feast,
A real treat!
Ripping them asunder from underneath.

Mother duck and remaining brood
Now, river-wise, race for the island of weeds
Clumsily fumbling - giddy with inexperience
There to be comfy and safe from the threats
Of the mouth that lurks in the shadowy depths.

A Dragonfly of brazen, outspoken, irrepressible, magnificent blue
Hovers and darts from clover to yew
Circuits the banks. Flashes into the sun,
Returning once more from the north by the bridge
For some more fun.

Swallowtails court one another in incandescent glee
Paragons of speed and swift victories
Skydancing bravely.
Riverskimming nimbly
Without compromise, so happy in the lowering glowing sun.
As bold as a courageous youth
Faster than a radiant smile's bright eyed flash.

The rains came last night and river is crystal clear.
The fishermen complains that the fish are too crafty to be hooked!
‘I need a cloudy stream to catch a good bream'
He says as he harrumphs with a smart sharp sparkle in his hunter's wise eye

And so darkness arrives again in the gather storm.
Premature.
The heavy clouds lour over our precious town now
The trumpet and drums of the mighty sky
Bellow in the marriage of sound and light
And the gentle river is transformed.
Clouds cast off their weight in dappled greys
And leaden rivulets
A million billion tiny bombs bubble in turbulence
And the furious river boils awhile.

Rains now passed -
Their journey their own.
The big dark sky rend by cloudbreaks tares
And there, beyond the retreating menace of the storm
Unperturbed - is the dazzling radiance of the closing of the day
Multi coloured. Evening hued and far away.
Casting irresistible splendour in the never lying mirror
Of Grimsby's ancient river;
As a lady prepares diligently for bed.
Or as a youth preens in readiness for the night ahead.

So the day in the life of the river closes.
Clover and yews stand silent sentinels on opposite banks
And dreams abound and she winds down
Stately. Asleep.
Without much thanks,
Silently onwards to riverhead.

And from there to the wide and unforgiving sea.


Written observing the great beauty of the River outside my gate in Grimsby