Observations Near A River
8th November, 2015 – 8:30 a.m. Shad Thames, London
This sleepy Sunday morning
The jets climbing out of Heathrow sing
Home, home, away away
They follow the river downstream toward the ocean
as did the ancient Romans
as did the ancient Celts
as did the ancient Saxons and the anglos and the Norse, the Vikings
as has everyone else since
At the moment the river is actually flowing upstream, pushed by the power of ocean tide’s arrival
Thus this ancient city receives as well as sends out
This city renewed twice a day with water and people and wealth
This city that sends back out that water, those people, and some of its wealth
We can feel that energetic pulse even as we sip our first coffee on our balcony
We live, for the moment of a weekend, in a rented apartment,
in a building built atop the ruins of old fields,
old warehouses and now a fresh expression of expensive condominiums.
Its a two bedroom flat. The kitchen has granite counter tops and a cheap dishwasher and cooktop.
It looks good but is not ready for serious use. This is not a home for a life to be lived together
It is only temporary shelter overlooking a passageway of water, people, birds and jets
The tourist boats are slowly untying themselves from their docks.
The ferries take up again their never ending journey from one side of the city to the other.
Inside, behind us, the suitcases are waiting to be repacked.
Two geese swim by, nibbling for tasty treats at the side of boats and river walls.
Two men in a pontoon float by inspecting the river, the walls, the boats, the flow.
Neither stay long
Nor do we
This ancient place knows that everyone who leaves, comes back again and
that everyone who comes, leaves again.
And overhead the jets still sing their morning song
Home, home, away, away