The expanse of reservoir
Eked a gnarled channel
Towards insipid mists
And pastel trees,
Disturbed only by unhurried divers,
Querulous, flapping gulls
And fussing wagtails,
As a pale March sky
Watched its myriad reflections
Flatter, deceive, disturb, yet ultimately please...
I saw a swan, then:
Flying low in a determined approach;
Heavy, foreboding, insidious;
I imagined a Lancaster, then,
Flying low in a predetermined approach:
Heavy, brooding, invidious...
Ate a meagre lunch alongside Eyebrook Reservoir, Rutland, where Lancaster bombers practised low flying for the ‘Dambusters’ raid.
And then a swan did just that: flew low along the length of the reservoir...