The river runs deep if it is allowed to flow freely

and the clutter and wreckage of the abandoned shopping trolley

covered in slime, the mess of one generation passed down

to another in shrink wrapped, tightly wrapped, always trapped;

is removed and placed far out of sight.

The free flowing river, the conscious of independent thought

should not be stunted, diverted and allowed to stagnate in some form

of pruning cultivation, the flower should be allowed to grow

and take over the muddy ground that lays along the bank,

the water, gushing and sedate, bubbling yet perfectly still

washing over it in waves, feeding it to become a bloom to be idolised.

I would love to think that flower

in twenty years or more will find the path,

strangle the strewn gravel and have passers-by

nod in appreciation and not allowing a council official

to mess with the way it has flowered.

This flower of Aquitaine

so young and with wealth of purity

sings by the side of the river

and never asks of anything

except for the chance to grow and be

loved for itself.

Ian D. Hall  2015