Perpetuum Mobile

Onward and seaward, by night and by day,
with neither a pause nor a stall.
Trickling and tumbling and twisting along,
To the sea, to the sea! is my call.

I scoop a pool out for the silvery trout
near a boulder or bridge on my way.
Discreetly, I pass by the heron (completely
immobile, but hopeful each day).

Past whirligig beetle, the otter kits’ holt,
a spot where the water voles watch me.
Past water rat, shrew and the beavers’ dam, too,
for building and blocking can’t halt me.

I sparkle for kingfisher, dance for the dipper
and swirl round the stem of each reed.
Past dragonfly, damselfly, mayfly I sweep,
through rushes and luscious green weed.

Aerating cool gravel beds, I nurture life
from the eggs and the larvae below.
I ferry the salmon and eels back downstream,
as onward and seaward we go.

I skip down the hillside, I swing through the towns,
I course through the countryside, slip through the downs,
I sing to the stars as I run round the rocks,
then cut through the city and slide through the docks.
No-one can catch me and no one can match me
and no-one can stand in my way.
From my spring to my stream to my estuary mouth
I shall dream of the sea, I shall flow to the sea,
I must go to the sea. Oh, the sound of the sea –
I’ll be one with the sea today!