Quayside

We met in summer by the quays,

Your straw hat loping like a corona

Atop your angel’s head.

The river pulsed heartlike

And the sunshine trickled down

In tremulous little pockets;

And even the plashing swans

Fell still,

As if the whole world

Were in palpitation.

Suddenly it rained,

And so we sought shelter

Beneath a windswept awning

And listened as the thuds

Swelled to torrents

In silent rapture.

When the worst of it had passed

We trotted off to the park,

Our eyes trained on our feet

Like school kids just chastened

For some unlicensed revel,

Some private bliss beyond

All reason.