Ode to the Wye

I paddle in your core                                      

and as I float you whisper

of  a long ago birth,

high in the purple mountain

Of Plynlimon,

and how you cut like a knife

through  sand  and limestone rocks                        

to make a valley.

                                                                               

You murmur of your journey to adulthood                                                                          

widening as you found

your way down to the ocean,

how you became home to the otter

and the kingfisher,

and a spawning ground

for lamprey, shad and salmon.

                               

You tell me tales of battles

fought for your soul                                       

and how my kind made

artificial borders                              

along your length.

 How folk built castles

and cottages and lived

on your abundant wealth.

You speak of mines

and acid rain      

that threatened to spoil you.

               

And all the while I drink you in:

your calm clear water easing my worries;

your fast tumbling heart

thrilling me        

more than any fairground ride.

© Susan Jane Sims

This poem was published in Landscapes on the Edge : poems of the Wye Valley and Welsh Borders, eds. Margot Miller and Sue Sharp. Fineleaf books, 2010. The poem is unusual for me as I rarely write landscape poems.