Weir

Sludge water trees lingerlinger on the edge of timefar from the here, now bright watercascades from the weir.A lone walker ruffles the silence,carpet of reeds poppy’s storma flash of colour, lipstick on the vergecarmine clashing.Dead weed billowsacross the surface, decompositionsmells like sleep, oily edgedcreeping green clawed to stickdis - ease dogs scatter leavingmuddy footprints over twilighta lonely owl calls.