There is a time

channel mists behind, we sit at anchor for the tide

then in the early hours the Thames pilots board

and - slowly for the mist still lingers close to land -

we move up river reaches, take tugs and find our lock

to gently nudge our way between the barges

until we are tied up again in Albert's dock,

derricks swung and hatches open -

and I am free

Again,...

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Black steel

curling wrought iron

balustrade

Beneath me

coffee steam

and noise

rise

and a poet

sits talking

animatedly

his foot jiggling

as he gesticulates

outside

autumn sun

shines on wet roofs

and casts

tree shadows

on house walls

outside

the sea is rising

while

London sinks

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