Upstream Poem by linda jenkinson

The bed of our stretch of the beck was
Summer shallow and swift moving.
It thought it was a brook sometimes
A rocky pebbled frolic that
Chortled through two serf built arches
Hemmed in by trees full of rooks
Who rasped jokes to the geese and
The ducks
Who laughed quite artlessly.

I babbled my way through a childhood there
With the beck beneath my window
Tickled so many sticklebacks
Knew the holes of various voles.
In my seventh summer softly set free
To explore as far as I could see
I entered my personal heaven
By setting off upstream.