~
On New Year’s Eve
I met a philosopher on
a tiny clapper bridge,
an aged fellow with
an unkempt beard
and a walking frame,
he looked to search
the babbling waters
with steel blue eyes
consternation across
his furrowed brow,
absentmindedly he
asked if I understood
the cycle of water and
whether like he, I believed
that some of the water
rushing by us both might
have graced the feet
of dinosaurs.
© GRS1/26
grahamrichardsherwood.co.uk 