Adders in Redbridge.
A shaggy, shadowed path, now as far
flung as volumed folklore, dusted,
flow trailing as straight as if plotted;
leering junction, overpass and the weir.
I slept on the bank a day in summer,
steep as anything, alfresco, honeyed,
the swimmers, determined as ferrymen,
without tax, task or trade, bartered;
a shadow by the glimmer, and marvelled.