The Canal

The Canal Pollock painted pathways Jagged edged, reaching to infinity Artfully designed In perspective With purple and yellow blotches On the grassy bank. Faeces placed with little thought By seagulls, swans, Ducks and dogs All make their mark Creating an asphalt masterpiece. Crook-backed, A recreant rook is perched aloft, Eyes on fire, a shining cloak of black, Surveying the unfinished canvas Down below, Perhaps to add a forgotten brushstroke. The canal Marches onward One bridge at a time. On reflection The stippled surface A crusted skin of Black and tan, Silver and grey Tries, at least, To bid farewell to another winter. Upside-down people amble The path above Whilst mid-way, Huddled clumps of gold bring brightness To a morbid Sullen day.