Rivers of grit, in milk suspended
Dashing, splintering, formula racing
Youthful effervescence, rocks upended
Rippling pools, iris eyes facing

Rivers of youth, etching each terrace
Through till, pebble, gravel loaded loam
Wily he flows under bright Polaris
Eyeing beaver, who damns his home

Rivers of deception, languid, calming
A snake at ease yet half-closed, eyeing
A killer ready, snatching, harming
Rasping at the bank, whirling, dying

Rivers of majesty, industrious, mighty
Dredged, cut, but words left unspoke
The setting, scene, curtain rising nightly
On cities, on ships, on chimneys, on smoke

Rivers of blood, for the King’s clotted Shilling
Brothers slashed, cracked and scarred
Evening falls on veins split spilling
Babbling brooks stained by Morning Stars

Rivers of tarmac, inexorably weaving
A hunter’s web, a black passion play
Shimmering, sparkling, lights streaking
Cars spitting acid, biting prey

Rivers of steel, piercing higher
Mirroring back our urban theorem
Eats worker bees with carnal desire
Spewing them out to a pendulum rhythm

Rivers of honour, tick follows tock
Bindings bond, seeds for sewing
A wheatsheaf worshipped by a hanging knot
In our hearth, our hearts over flowing

To the rivers Blythe, Dart, Mersey and Trent, Severn, Eden, Goyt and Dove
For D