In the driest months when the tidal river

is low and the current almost lethargic,

when the waters flow gently over the weir

the Normans built to create a fish pool,

you can see the cut sandstone blocks from which

the sloping dam was made. Near the southern bank

salmon steps were constructed, and a mill-race –

where this winter’s spate has jammed a fallen tree.

On the groyne between the steps and the race

eleven cormorants stand, spreading their wings,

facing down stream. The river hurtles past,

as if the ice caps had begun melting.

The highest tides expunge the weir entirely,

leaving, momentarily, a gleaming,

shifting, swollen calm. One of the cormorants

dives, then another, until they are all

submerged in muffled memories of the sea.