Night rain - Compton Lock, near Shawford

in the darkness you lie awake, listening
hearing the front panes rattle and fret
sensing static travelling in from Famara
until white noise surrounds the house
and lack of drainage causes the patio to flood

feeling more free because you live in this village
and you haven’t many neighbours close by
you briefly consider tiptoeing downstairs
to lie naked in the currents of the patio, to recall

the consolation of childhood river swimming

you remember Compton Lock, near Shawford 

every sunny weekend throughout summer

pond-dipping for minnows and sticklebacks

river walks through shady woods downstream

the lazy carp and the sinister pike ... hunting 

jumping into clear, chalky water by the lock

torrents eddying, plunging over a willow burl

that lodged in so long it had begun to sprout

and notes of eglantine drift by, like sweet apples
hanging in the ionised air of your youth