Shipley Bridge (A Quirky Poem)

by Edward Keyes

The great moments are not for minor poets,
need the Shakespearean touch
Expression of their vital essence eludes us.
Our verbal handling strays towards the purple passage
or strait-jacket of cliche and stock response.

I will stick to lesser things,
fancies evoked by this moorland walk.

Clotted foam gathered at the stream edge
like froth on top of a beer-mug.
Lank, bare trees rising out of packed greenery
like well-wrought symphonic movements
sheering off to a banal finale.
Moss-covered rocks variously-shaped
Like green fairy-tale houses.
This darting dog, lively but affectionate,
surely one aspect of the Holy Ghost,
  life and love wrapped small and pure in fur.