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.
Copyright © Tim Riding | Year Posted 2020
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