Last Saturday, a leaden sky, waiting for new storms to fly in from the sea. The River Avon, swollen with flood water from its long, winding valley route through Wiltshire, Hampshire and Dorset. Across river and flood, a steeple, the Priory Church tower and rooftops in the town shine dark and wet from recent rain. A wind ruffles wavelets over fields of water.
Rushing, rolling grey water churning deep in the river channel. Rising, bursting water, flowing over soft river banks into the fields beyond. Grass and meadow flowers submerging ; air bubbling from the covered earth. Earthworms and scuttling insects drowning. Seagulls swimming on new fields of silver. A heron in the shallows, still, its beak poised, its black eye watching.
2 comments:
I have noted the term "watermeadows" in books with English settings [or should I say, British?] and finally was prompted by your post to look up the definition. Interesting!
What a lovely description. I especially liked the alliteration of seagulls swimming on new fields of silver. I read that Dorset had been badly affected by the storm last week - there was a picture of waves at Old Harry Rocks which didn't look too welcoming!
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